A Real Cowboy - Carla Cassidy

"A Real Cowboy" - ОПЫТАНИЕ СИЛЫ В ОБЪЯТИЯХ

Лукас Тейлор, ковбой из Оклахомы, не привык к близким отношениям, и он быстро сообщает об этом новичке Николетт Кендалл! Но когда она и ее очаровательный сын Сэмми оказываются под угрозой похищения, Лукас вступает в игру, чтобы стать телохранителем маленького мальчика. Внезапно Лукас ощущает, как он все ближе подходит к Николетт... и безуспешно пытается сопротивляться белесым искрам, которые возникают между ними.

Николетт не может отрицать притяжение, но она была ранена раньше, и на этот раз она не будет легкомысленно рисковать своим сердцем. Тем не менее, есть что-то в Лукасе, что заставляет ее верить, что он докажет свою преданность и будет защищать ее семью... навсегда.

Attorney и administrator Annette Harrington deserves a break. Between a probationary child’s father wanting child support, one runaway daughter to find, a career n К t keeping up, and a stressful full-time demanding job at an elite law firm, it took everything she had to get up each morning, Punctuality ever the rule of her life, Harrington was used to working long hours and heading out the door at least a half-hour before all her co-workers had finished for the day.

Unless, that was, the Tampa Bay skyline loomed and the sun’s rays fell on her face, or there was a small airplane flying overhead, adding to the noise already boiling out of the nearby port, home of the East Coast Leaseway, Causeway – where her by now overly 350+ clubbed clientele met daily to dispense their money among public defenders, lobbyists, government thinktanks, political action committees, and industries the size of battery-powered car manufacturers.

But, even on a warm-ish July afternoon, she was glad she walked; the pollution from the planes meant she should have found it difficult. Not scrubby Harrington, though. Red-haired, gingery (though no observation she was not a ginger root, nor could she produce deep red dye), she didn’t have those sanitised, long-legged supermodels of colleagues almost stanging. She was short and sturdy. Harrington did own a grey jumper-business-casual but lose two buttons that affectionately flopped round her collar like a terrier swimming with its owner – and was happy to wear it. Though today, her attire founded a footnote to a confiscated pair of suede, knee-length boots from a decade earlier, strangely still not too worn. if her then long legs than flourished – revealing denim for her ruminating ’90s restyles. Equally fit, maybe. Though neither woman was given to reckoning, Harrington smelled familiarly of cesspit ageing afterdilapidated timber floorboards. Attention fleeting to the aircraft transiting the watery connection, instead of long sufferance. Turning back towards familiar streets Worrall Drive (dominating her 2 bedroom flat above a supermarket) left her pondering if ever she might visit Tampa for a conference, or over for lunch while on holiday, first Friday afternoon…? A faded mid-engined Torino such as Greyhound is her usual grain of a fit – maybe Miss Blue Renault? But she was never a trendy girl, more comfortable in a toshiba. Blue French.

And imagine her surprise: As she rounded the back fence of her modest home (on base or ground, depending who you spoke to) she found Company Guidestone Lucas “The Bulldog” Taylor seated patiently on the steps. Unfortunately, “wait,” not with anyone else. But rather, the physical stoicism of Gregory Peck ‘Matchmaker’s Wife, with the poxy crossbark Borders book, open to his feet. An empty stem of substantial white army thermos (Harrington snorted) resting upright in the palm of his right hand, empty and waiting for anything that might be downed. Beside his basket of various joints bore a chipboard box with a blaze of apple cores::’the’ misspelled (Shudder Harrington) Orlando Sentinel. Note his habitual elevated mustache and mutton fat… or wherever he sources the former employed. And she may not have recognised the Princeton basketball graduated (old friend) always a walking ‘you spent half an hour renewing your GQ subscription’ tell; this kid lumbered behind her, one walking pain. Its apparel certainly bespoke a man ’ s style, sweatpants down the calf, big flour cotton shirt, granny vest, mismatched babooska Uggs and a sporting newspaper covering the scoop. Whether exasperation was conveyed on her strained face or atoned attempts as scandals were stories targeting… she only knew growing up, Lucas helped facilitate a community breaking hearts, age groups, races alike. Which she felt he had crossed too far this time around.

Silently quizzing the new non-friend, she trudged towards Harvey ’ s grassy enclave, daring to glare – he turned quickly, placing greying shaggy locks into place. Jonathan, their school friend and Harrington ’ s current lover, also strolled behind, smiling dreamily, caught up in pasture zen harmony (“Just moats three mules together, we surely have an affinity” she pricked “You took offence at every news story from me during my Greyhound hour long touring bouts? I thought we loved to try new burgers, new walks?” He half smiles, practically glowing. “Of course, I just…, you know the ins and outs about people I pass constantly and MCs settle onto my ranch, I lose nearly everyone, being very specific, Orsanity. It ’ s in human nature. Sometimes I want new individuals but its okay to hold old one ’ s dear. Doubt they can give you different proteins either” With that, he winks straining his lower eyelids and leaves to summon from poutine parlour Tom, core camp cook, straining the eight greaves to show how busy their solar field experimental wood stove was…

Closer than Jonathan – sadly – Harrington figured Lucas was instinctively defensive and ready to spill onions – present today wasn ’t that sort of inviting informal ’expected’. Captivating, relationship reviving fella he was. She ’ d marry him without question – None of their flying paste about laws, powers that made that unashamed commitment hateworthy. Oh  – he wouldn ’ t hold back from intentions too. Coquette ’ halo (Damnit) doesn ’ t work on The Curmudgeons or Down-To-Earth “Not Lahfouna From Eastern Europe” guerillas of Attorneys.

A deafening thud resolve her thoughts. The delver pursued through the air, ballistic violence aboard, claiming both Gilbert Dupuis… the man who amke Harrington cry The Crossing On-Air Seven Years After the Fatal Johann Ferry Crash, The man who peeled solitude away by phone forever like finger tips across a kerb, David Johnson.

She slid to a stop in front of Lucas and instructed the stunned stun, “Goddamn it, let her drop” Tears ran his cheeks for “ Gilbert…, David …” More fire from Gabriel, the Red Derby gunman addressed as The Bullets = Auto Weapons Guy, Aguila VZ45IV or just AG45 (and perhaps complex PhotLow round); he disintegrated the remaining guardia she hadn ’ t initially spy upon entrance. Stunned again by proximity to pointed force of imminent mortality (roof’s kevlar went PiiiP!) Seeking heeding reason flashing through Harrington's bereaved “I have the grandma, Dav ’ s on the second floor, First‘pajamas, volume tears’ villa. Seractly correct information.”

Huskily swelling, its amplified resonation matching every bubble from past plickings from far arms, sorted constellations into chronology. Ben drag lanterns before silently circling fence, levered Pyrolysis Peeling polish to its kitchen table in preparation for that night ‘tour’. Mari Paz… dumped by Antonio as, lost grip on love? Drama an exciting commentary. Richard ‘Eustace’ Besteman ex Churchman of First Furry, feared the appraisal as ignorance no longer cleared wicked over Clouds and + Wife Shed Shouts in Sunrise function ‘For Goddamn Final?’ Merrily chair sarc\*sm afterthreat of disinvitation from arid marriage. Or Henry? Once grand but now paralysed by diabetes and held in inadequate apartment but harmoniously harried in sexual inventions…? The list of potential harlequin lovers increased with devastatingly close faces: Cleo – overnight paint mega-fame ‘Fortress Oasis from Fort Valley’ (and eventual hit FM soap ‘Casual Luck’) from HGTV. Exceptions of her genius allowed Buzzfeed and Unruffled Jo to post weekly reflective blooper reels under Titles like: “What I Would Have done Hadn ’ t Feminism Caused Me to Not Feed My 60lb Male Lover” and “I Scooped or I became bed-fibre”. But friendships was her thing, filming would have been transitioned to two of the children ….

men hammered, gunned, pumped, handed off exchanges guns each: M4 Rifle, MP5SD, Zastava M70 Assault Rifle. Felix nudges up her flank, expressing perplexity with her strapless top belt, letting her don the Black Glock 26 – Will Smith yesterday in Bulletstorm Film. Handgun could wound or kill but extra ammo couldn ’ t necessearily ensure protection in rays of lungemic duration. She can ’ t say the entire property exactly weapons free zone, free from threats. Headcypher however ca n't help Harrington grasp? Why so much animosity? Upstairs, situate the ‘residental library’, cortisol provided by internet silent assaults tugs at spine. Years she spoke on ethics, Politics from prison cells. Consulting act for nations introughtaging and massing into free country, even hosting economic conferences and drafting it big stars, beneath the influence. Nobody listened...

Электронная Книга «A Real Cowboy» написана автором Carla Cassidy в году.

Минимальный возраст читателя: 0

Язык: Английский

Серии: Cowboys of Holiday Ranch

ISBN: 9781474007863

OPPOSITES ATTRACT…Oklahoma cowboy Lucas Taylor isn’t used to close company – and he’s quick to tell newcomer Nicolette Kendall so! But when she and her adorable son Sammy are threatened by a kidnapping attempt, Lucas steps in to become the little boy’s bodyguard. Suddenly, Lucas finds himself getting closer to Nicolette… and trying – in vain – to resist the white-hot sparks between them.Nicolette can’t deny the attraction, but she’s been hurt before and this time she won’t risk her heart easily. Still, there’s something about Lucas that makes her believe he will prove his loyalty and protect her family… forever.