The Cowboy Says Yes
Dedication
For Amelia, Audrey and Grant.
My favorites.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
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
About the Author
Announcement
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
Rustlers Creek, Montana wasn’t exactly the epicenter of cool, contemporary or classy. Or it hadn’t been, until the creative brains at the Cooking Network had descended on Hadley Wayne’s small hometown with all the zeal of locusts in August.
Forest and Evans Publishing had followed suit with a deep and urgent desire to publish her Christmas cookbook, which they eagerly followed up on with an Easter decorating guide and a summer party planner.
And then there’d been the inevitable cookware line that QVC hawked as today’s special value at least three times over the past year.
It had all come together with the speed of summer lightning descending over the ranch and there were moments Hadley’s head still spun with it all.
And then she’d push it aside as another camera crew set up shop in her eight-hundred-square-foot kitchen while a lighting designer added strategically placed kliegs to halo her in concert with the spring sunlight that streamed in her large bay window.
Two months could pass like that, with barely a thought beyond show schedules, meal planning and cookbook edits. She’d then look up, trying to surface for air, desperate to remember what—and who—she’d put on hold.
She’d had no idea her dreams could be this big. Or grow this huge. And yet . . .
“Hadley. You ready?” Her producer, Beatrix Malone, stood before her, clad in perpetual black and the four-inch heels she raced around the ranch in as if they were the most comfortable pair of cross-trainers she’d ever owned.
Bea’s assistant, Aimee (pronounced: ahhh-may) swooped in behind. “The guys need to get this segment wrapped in an hour so we can get set up outside when the cowboys come in for lunch.”
Hadley pulled herself back from the sour direction of her thoughts, Zack usually at the top of that list, and focused on the day’s work. “I don’t like how the apple turnovers looked yesterday. We need to reshoot the last shot when they come out of the oven.”
Aimee started to argue before Bea held up a hand. “We’ll get it after lunch. I’ll make a note of it with the director. How much time do you need on the turnovers?”
“I’ve already prepped them. I’ll put them in when we get back inside after lunch. We can get them dressed and ready in under an hour.”
“Done.” Bea was already off, presumably to talk to the director as well as whoever was on the endless lists she carried on the tablet that rarely left her hand, leaving Hadley to the pre-prep before shooting began. Her own assistants had already prepped the pork shoulder and chopped the onions she’d need for the next segment and it was only a matter of finishing up in makeup and changing her clothes.
The camera didn’t favor navy blue T-shirts and yoga pants.
Although she’d set specific ground rules early on, namely that the cameras never came upstairs to her bedroom, that edict didn’t extend to makeup, hair or wardrobe. After the show had taken off, she’d gotten Zack’s reluctant agreement to alter one of the ranch’s six bedrooms into a haven for the hair and makeup crew. The en suite bathroom had been transformed, with lighting more blinding than a winter squall all while racks of clothing stood sentinel in the bedroom.
It had been a fair trade and kept her eagle-eyed makeup team from seeing the inside of her own bedroom. One that now stood down the hall from the master she’d shared with Zack. The oversized room she’d once loved waking up in, done up in subtle tones of cream and peacock blue, had become a mocking reminder of all they no longer shared.
Not that anyone else needed to know that.
Aside from the gossip she had no interest in being the subject of, there was no way the Cowgirl Gourmet could let the world know she and her husband no longer shared the same bedroom, the same meals and, as soon as the cameras stopped rolling, the same air.
Even if today’s segment had them sharing far more air than either of them was comfortable with any longer.
“Time to make that porcelain skin even more flawless.” Chantal, her makeup guru, took her arm and gently pulled her toward a large chair set up in front of all those lights.
Did she go anywhere any longer without lights? They were everywhere in her home. They accompanied her on the photo shoots she was now regularly a part of. And they were, even now, covering her bathroom mirrors. Yet for as bright as they were, they weren’t able to uncover any of the dark places where her marriage had gone so wrong.
God, why was it so overwhelming today?
She’d barely spoken to Zack since their last fight ten days ago. It was the last time the crew had set up outside, filming him in the predawn hours as he did his work around the ranch. Oh, he’d done his contractual duty, smiling for the cameras and giving them the whole “cowboy show,” detailing for her viewers how the calves would be paired up with their mamas as Zack and his team moved them to new pasture.
And then he’d stomped into the house and, after being satisfied no one was lurking, had picked a fight with her as big as the Montana sky lightening outside their kitchen window.
When would this season finally be over?
Why did she have to go to LA to do promo?
And why in the hell had she roped his mother into the decorating of the Trading Post Hadley was building in downtown Rustlers Creek?
The slam at his mother had been her final straw—likely the barb Zack knew would hit deepest—and she’d succumbed. The words had flown with all the icy venom both of them seemed bogged down with lately. Including the final shot she’d landed, that if he gave a damn about his mother he could fucking well call her himself instead of hiding behind a wide-open field laden with cow shit.
“Yo, Hadley.” Chantal waved a hand. “You here with me?”
“I’m sorry. A lot on my mind.”
Chantal nodded, her dark brown eyes sharp even if her words were casual. “Big day today. The shoots outside always get everyone all worked up.”
“The cowboys try not to be, but they get nervous.”
“Hmmm.”
Hadley was grateful for the diversion. “You still have your eye on Garland?”
“The tall, skinny one?”
Hadley held back the smile at Chantal’s sudden casualness, as if she didn’t know exactly who Garland Cook was. “That’s the one. He’s been looking at you.”
“Probably because I’m the only Black woman he’s ever seen.”
“Not true.”
Chantal cocked a hand on her hip, stepping back to survey the layer of foundation she’d applied. “You mean there are actually other Black people in this state?”
“Yes. A few.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“And I do believe you’re changing the subject. He likes you. He’d like to go out with you.”
“I’m not a circus sideshow.”
Hadley laid a hand on Chantal’s arm. “No, you’re a beautiful young woman who has the zing for a very good man.”
Chantal rolled her eyes, but Hadley didn’t miss the small smile tilting the edges. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Because I’ve got no doubt Gar’s thinking about you and doing some zinging of his own.”
Chantal started in on Hadley’s eyes, smiling wide. “The zing. I like that.”
Hadley liked it, too. Could even still remember what it had felt like, that excitement quivering low in the belly every time Zack came into view.
She still had it, truth be told. But layered overtop was the oil slick of anger and frustration that their marriage had become a facade. That the dreams they’d once shared together had split somewhere, each of them taking different paths.
And that the one thing they’d always dreamed of together—a family—was never going to be.
Zack Wayne eyed the moving herd of cattle from the back of his horse and wondered where the morning had gone. Or the month of September, for that matter. Or the last fucking three years.
They’d all vanished like smoke, just like his marriage.
“Zack!” His foreman, Carter Jessup, waved him down from where he’d been riding behind the south end of the moving herd.
Zack turned his mount, Gator, in Carter’s direction and slowly worked his way toward the other man, all while keeping a close eye for any stragglers. They hadn’t worked this hard to lose one of the calves now.
“You ready to head in?” Carter asked.
“Yeah.”
“Camera crew’s all set up and waiting on us for lunch. Rumor has it we’re having pulled pork sandwiches today which means there is a god in heaven and he loves me very, very much.”
“Whoop-de-do.”
Carter’s gaze narrowed, the man seeing far more than Zac
k was comfortable with. “I thought you liked camera days. It’s good for business.”
“I didn’t say otherwise.”
Carter shot him one more narrow-eyed gaze, his blue eyes as bright as the sky, before dropping it. “Calves look good. There’s one I want the doc to look at. Little guy seems a bit wheezy in his breathing. But we’ll get ’em all settled and counted this afternoon and then weigh ’em tomorrow.”
“Good.” Zack nodded, well aware of what they had on tap this week but always pleased when his foreman was in sync. “And you don’t think Gray needs to come out sooner to look at the calf?”
“Nah.” Carter gathered his reins in his hand, seeming to consider the guidance of their large animal vet, Gray McClain. “He’s still eating, just hanging a bit close to his mama. Since Doc McClain already confirmed he’d be out early tomorrow to keep a close eye on each of them as they come off the scales, I think we’ll be alright.”
“Good.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Zack shook off the distracted sour mood and tried to focus on the things that had gone right. It wasn’t a sure fix, but it was a hell of a lot better than wallowing in all that sucked ass in his life right now. “It’s been a good day so far. The herd looks healthy and strong and the heifers don’t look worse for wear.” Zack assessed the land that spread out before the two of them. “We’ll be well set for winter.”
“You going to get a bit of free time in? Maybe go to LA with Hadley in a few weeks?”
The question was casual and Zack didn’t sense anything behind it besides congenial conversation, but it was jarring all the same. Was there anyone on the ranch who didn’t know about production schedules and travel commitments and national fucking book launches?
“I’m not sure. Dad’s been a bit ornery lately and I don’t know if it’s a good idea to leave him alone.”
“And here I thought he was his calm, levelheaded self.”
Zack laughed at that, his first real laugh in days, even as his father’s current mood was one of the contributors to the excessively suck-assed mood around the ranch. “Is he terrorizing the bunkhouse again?”
“Every day for a week. Garland’s ‘yes, sir’d’ your father so many times it’s a wonder he hasn’t gone insane.” Carter shook his head, suddenly contrite. “I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, especially since it sounds like I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
Carter waved a hand, his tone kinder than Zack’s family deserved as he dismissed the apology. “No need for that.”
If Zack’s own sham of a marriage wasn’t problem enough, his mother had unceremoniously kicked his father out two months ago. Said she was sick of playing housekeeper and was damned if he was going to tell her she couldn’t have a job. The fight, as he’d been led to believe, had been one for the ages and it had left his normally frustrating father—a challenge on the very best of days—damn near impossible to live with.
The reality of age—and his increasing inability to work the land—coupled with whatever the hell this was with his parents had put the old man’s balls in a sling.
And hell if Zack wasn’t the one stuck with the consequences.
His sisters had been zero help, all four of them taking his mother’s side. And his brother had been gone for so long it was hard to remember a time when Jackson had been around with any regularity.
Even Zack had seen his way to his mother’s point a time or two, but there was no discussing it with the old man. When he got the rare opportunity to get a word in edgewise in between all the ranting and railing, he’d learned it was easier to just listen and keep his mouth shut.
Especially because he’d caught a few of his own sentiments toward Hadley in the old man’s rants about his mother and it didn’t sit particularly well. He was proud of his wife and all she’d accomplished. And while he was frustrated at times with the circus that seemed to come with that success, it was never directed at her.
Then why does it feel like it’s all the two of you fight about?
The commotion out near the edge of the pasture was easy to see and Zack shifted his attention that direction and off his uncomfortable thoughts. He was curious, as always, to see how much time, effort and sheer stuff was required to shoot a TV show.
And don’t get him started on the people.
Endless reams of people who had no business on a Montana cattle ranch and, as the show seasons had gone by, had shown less and less care for their surroundings. There were days where he felt like a cross between a sideshow circus freak and the king of the universe the way they framed shots of him on his horse or baling hay out of the back of one of the ranch’s oversized trucks.
They’d glamorized it all, making it seem effortless, somehow. Which had been amusing at first but had quickly begun to chafe.
He worked damn hard. And to have it dismissed as if the fucking ranch fairies showed up every night and did his work had grown tiresome.
Add on the crisscrossing tracks that lay all over the damn place to move the cameras that captured him up on that horse or to get images of his hands working the land and it was a wonder they hadn’t had any injuries yet.
He’d draw the line there, and Hadley knew it.
Not that it would matter for much longer. She had some postproduction to shoot and wrap up and then she’d be on her way to LA in October. And once that was done, on to her book tour. He’d be lucky if he’d see her for more than a month.
And since he’d already successfully avoided her for the better part of two they’d steamroll right on into the holidays by the time she got back.
Fuck it all, where had it gone so sideways?
He loved his wife. Had since the first time he laid eyes on her, across the counter at a bakery in town.
And in the last two years he’d slowly come to hate her.
Hadley fussed over the food set up on the open flatbed of one of the ranch trucks. The Wayne and Sons Ranch logo was visible on the side and the truck had been shined to within an inch of its life, the black paint gleaming in the late September sunshine. It was warm, even if the nights had grown decidedly colder since Labor Day.
The food designer had already set up, fixing the pulled pork Hadley had prepared that morning for the stand-alone shots, but Hadley had stepped in to finagle a few things for actual serving. Zack hated this part, even as he’d smile and coo at her—and her food—for the cameras.
It hadn’t been that way at first. Sure, he’d seemed amused by it all, but he’d been a good sport. But over time, she could see that the steady presence of so many extra people and the fussing and bother of it all raked his nerves.
Which was his own damn problem, she thought, stabbing a fork into the jar of pickled onions she’d prepared the night before, since his business certainly wasn’t hurting from all this. Wayne and Sons had already been a large enterprise, its legacy of putting food on American tables for well over a century standing them in good stead. But since the show and the resulting attention, his business had gone through the roof. Hell, the damn truck she had all this food set out on bore a Wayne and Sons medallion right next to the Ford logo in showrooms all over the country.
And was selling, too.
Which meant that this whole “shit show” as Zack had come to call it all, wasn’t just about her any longer. The Cowgirl Gourmet might have won the hearts of American home cooks, but her hot cowboy husband was doing damn fine on his own.
Hadn’t Chantal just shown her last week the Facebook fan page devoted to images of Zack without his shirt?
It had galled her at first, the idea that the masses had objectified her husband. And then she’d looked at the photos and had to admit it was hard to blame them. She knew intimately how wonderful those broad shoulders felt, and the way all that corded muscle in his back would flex beneath her fingers as he made love to her. Heart emojis and questionable captions aside, she had the reality of those photos and knew nothing about them was airbrushed or exaggerated.
Except the comments that made swoony references to her and Zack’s grand romance.
Maybe they’d had that once. Maybe they’d known how to make each other laugh and enjoy their time out of bed as much as they had in it. But those days were gone.
She was the Cowgirl Gourmet. And he was the hot cowboy who shared her roof and little else.