Trusting The Cowboy. Carolyne Aarsen
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Falling for the Rancher
When Lauren McCauley returns to the Circle M Ranch after her father’s death, she’s focused on selling the spread and getting a fresh start somewhere else. But she’s unprepared for the jolt her heart feels when she meets Vic Moore. The handsome, broad-shouldered cowboy may have a legitimate claim to the Circle M, and he makes it clear he’d like to lasso Lauren, as well. Terrified of another heartbreak, Lauren vows to cash in and ship out. But the strong and steady rancher is not about to give up on his dreams of a home...and a family to go with it.
“I think that you’re starting to like it here,” Vic said.
She swallowed as their eyes held.
“I am. It’s peaceful,” she said finally, fully aware of the calloused warmth of his hand.
“It can be,” he said. “Winter can be harsh and wild, though. When the wind whips up snow and piles it into snowbanks, blocks off roads.”
“I’ve never been here in the winter, except when I was a little girl,” she said.
“It has its own beauty,” Vic continued. “Its own moments when the sun comes out and the world looks like an endless blanket of white.”
His voice and the pictures he sketched with it were beguiling, and Lauren imagined herself tucked away in her father’s ranch house, looking out over blinding fields of white, a fire blazing in the hearth, a book on her lap.
It’s a dream, her practical self told her. A foolish dream.
She tugged her hand free and pulled herself away from Vic and the web he was weaving.
CAROLYNE AARSEN and her husband, Richard, live on a small ranch in northern Alberta, where they have raised four children and numerous foster children and are still raising cattle. Carolyne crafts her stories in an office with a large west-facing window, through which she can watch the changing seasons while struggling to make her words obey. Visit her website at carolyneaarsen.com.
Trusting the Cowboy
Carolyne Aarsen
MILLS & BOON
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Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways submit to Him,
and He will make your paths straight.
—Proverbs 3:5–6
To my husband, Richard,
who has shown me the meaning of trust.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Dear Reader
She wasn’t supposed to be here yet. Her sister Jodie had told him she was arriving in a couple of weeks.
But there she sat, perched in one of Drake’s worn chairs, as out of place in the shabby lawyer’s office as a purebred filly in a petting zoo.
Lauren McCauley appeared to be every inch the businesswoman Vic knew her to be. Tall. Slim. Blond hair twisted up in some fancy bun, a few wisps falling around her delicate features. She wore a brown blazer over a fitted dress tucked under her legs. Her high heels made her look as if she might topple to the ground if she stood.
A silver laptop rested on her knees and she frowned at the screen.
When she was a teenager, coming to Montana to visit her dad during the summer, she’d had a look that promised great beauty. But she always managed to seem cool and unapproachable. And she had never been his type.
Vic leaned more toward girls who rode horses and weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty mucking out horse stalls, running a tractor or feeding cows.
In spite of that, Vic couldn’t help a faint flutter of attraction when he peeked over at her again. She’d always been pretty. Now she looked stunning.
Lauren McCauley glanced up from the laptop she was typing on with her manicured fingers. She gave him a polite smile, her lips glistening a pale peach color, and she turned back to the computer.
Dissed and dismissed, he thought, glancing down at his cleanest blue jeans with the faded knees and the twill shirt he’d figured would be good enough. Now it seemed scruffy with its worn cuffs and grease stain on the arm. He felt exactly like the cowboy he was.
He pulled his hat off his head and walked over to where Jane Forsythe, Drake’s secretary, pounded on her keyboard, glowering through