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The last thing I heard before falling asleep was Andrew’s gentle whisper in my ear.
“I love you, Kristin.”
Purring happily, I stretched in his arms. “I love you,” I whispered softly. “I love you so much.”
The end
Cowboy Romance Series
BOOK 1 : BILLIONAIRE COWBOY
Celia shielded her eyes against the glaring Texan sun with the palm of her hand, this sun was going nowhere. She had just stepped off the train that had carried her from the Austin airport, and after a two-hour journey in a small cramped seat, she could feel her bones aching and her legs needing a stretch. How long would she have to wait here in the heat?
Two stuffed-to the brim suitcases lay at her feet. She had packed everything she could, everything she would need, although she wasn’t quite sure what she might actually require. She had never been to Texas before, and definitely never to such a small town.
Celia took in a deep breath and sighed. She had been standing there for over fifteen minutes now, and there was no sign of her ride.
Her grandfather had written a letter to her a month ago. Initially she had smiled when she found the letter slipped under the door of her tenth-floor apartment in New York, by the postman. Who hand wrote letters anymore? Clearly her grandfather did. But when she eventually read the letter, the smile on her face had disappeared. He was sick, very sick, and he was her only remaining family. She had to be there for him in his hour of need, there was no other choice but that.
So, Celia quit her job, not that it was much of a job. It was an internship at a fashion magazine, but it was also a stepping stone towards the actual job that she wanted. Sure, it would have taken time, a few months, maybe even a few years…but it would all be worth it. Now, quitting her job, moving to a small town in Texas to care for her grandfather was going to be a major setback. But what other choice did she have? She couldn’t simply allow her grandfather to wither away by himself.
She had written back to him, probably her first handwritten letter in several years, telling him her plan. She would quit her job and move in with him to care for him, for as long as he needed. He was her only family, she had to do this for him and for the memory of her parents who had brought her up to care for those in need.
The roar of an engine nearby distracted Celia from her thoughts and she whipped around to find a red battered truck making its way towards her, sending dust clouds up in the air in its trail. Her grandfather had mentioned a ride, but this wasn’t what she was expecting.
The truck came to a sudden halt, right in front of her feet and Celia took a few steps back in surprise. It looked like an old dusty thing, with the red paint chipped in several places, the rearview mirror broken and dangling on the side. The engine made such a great sound that it was clear that it needed major maintenance.
Celia still had her face shielded with her hand when t
he driver’s door creaked open and she saw the back of a man who jumped off the truck. She still didn’t know what to expect, was this definitely her ride?
“Celia Ferro?” The man banged the door shut behind him and turned to look at her, placing his hands on the burning hot hood of the car engine. There was steam rising from it, it was so hot. But he didn’t seem to notice, he kept his hands on it.
“Yes.” She replied, in a meek voice. She had obviously expected a stranger to pick her up, but not such a handsome one. This man was a cowboy through and through, the likes of which she had only ever seen in films or on TV. She hadn’t thought that people like him actually existed in real life.
He was in a dark plaid shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. His jeans were dark too, with a wide boot cut at the bottoms. For shoes, he had ruddy dusty boots and a cowboy hat to shield his face against the sun. But the sun had definitely got to him, because his skin was darkened, and it glowed like bronze in the midday heat. His eyes were piercingly blue, and Celia dropped her gaze from his face when he looked at her, because his eyes nearly frightened her. He looked muscular and lean, like he worked outdoors all day. As hard as she tried to stop herself, she couldn’t help her mind from wandering and imagining what his bare torso would look like, underneath those clothes.
“Do you have bags?” The man asked and she nodded her head.
“They’re right here.” She said and pointed to her feet.
He walked around the front of the truck silently, taking quick long steps and was by her side within seconds. She felt her muscles freeze from his closeness. She couldn’t remember the last time her body had reacted this way to the physical presence of someone else. Without a word, he picked up both the suitcases and tossed them into the open back of the van.
Celia winced when she heard the thump of the bags as they fell. She didn’t want to imagine what the state of her perfume bottles and makeup cases were going to be inside them.
“Get in.” She heard him say, and he walked back around to the driver’s side without waiting for a response from her. Celia gulped. How was she supposed to get in?
She tried pulling at the passenger door, but it wouldn’t give. The man had already climbed back into his seat. He had his hands loosely placed on the steering wheel and was watching Celia struggling to get the door open. It was like he was enjoying her trying and failing and then trying again.
She yanked and pulled, but the door wouldn’t budge; and the man wasn’t helping. She turned a sour face to him through the windshield, her lips quivering as she glared at him. What was wrong with him? She thought, but didn’t say anything. After she had glared at him for a good few moments, he leaned over and pushed the door open from his side. It slid open as smoothly as a knife through warm butter.
Celia tried to haul herself up into the seat, as best she could. She wasn’t dressed for the occasion, she realized as she did this. Her pencil skirt clung tightly to her thighs as she tried to wriggle into the seat, her cheeks flushed and her neck burning red from embarrassment.
He was following her every movement with keen watchful eyes, and when she turned to look at him, she realized that she hadn’t once seen him smile yet.
“Thank you.” Celia said, as politely as she could, even though she didn’t exactly want to be polite to him, when he had been nothing other than rude to her.
The man said nothing, but simply started the engine and the truck roared and came to life.
