Cowboy's Pride (Welcome to Covendale Book 1)

Cowboy’s Pride

Welcome to Covendale: Book 1

Morgan Blaze

The hardest second chance they’ll ever take…

“Why do I bother offering advice? Especially to you.” Cam slammed the rag back in the toolbox and stood. “Just hold the flashlight over here.”

Sydney bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I was trying to make a joke. A bad one.”

He sighed and leaned on the truck. “Okay. I guess I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?”

“I’m sorry your jokes are bad.” He smiled, just for an instant—and her heart stopped. God, what was
wrong
with her? “And I could be a little nicer,” he said. “So let’s get this beast started.”

“All right.”

She managed to hold the flashlight without letting her hands shake. All of a sudden, being this close to Cam seemed dangerous. She had to forcefully remind herself that she hated him.

It only took a minute for him to get the spark plug back in. “Okay,” he said. “Hand me the light, and go ahead and give it a try.”

She nodded, leaned into the truck and turned the key. The engine started right up.

“Oh, God,” she said. “Thank you so much. You’re…you really are a genius.”

“I just know machines.” He closed the hood and stood back. For a long moment he looked at her, but she couldn’t read anything in his expression. Finally, he said, “Make sure you get that serviced. It’s not going to stay running for long.”

“I will. Cam…”

He raised an eyebrow. In that split second, she could’ve kissed him.

And a huge part of her wanted that more than anything.

* * * *

Read on for more!

Prologue

Covendale High School – Junior Year

Sydney Davis, first-class chicken, pressed her back against the glass wall of the cafeteria and squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t do it,” she whispered.

“Come
on.
” Luka tried to pry her away. “There’s only three weeks until prom. If you don’t ask him now, it’s not happening. He’s graduating this year, remember?”

“It’s not happening anyway,” she moaned.

“Syd.”

She cracked an eye open. Her best friend stood with a fist planted on her hip, tapping her opposite foot. The infamous mule position. “Seriously, Luka,” she said. “Do you see who he’s sitting with? That’s Gina Wyatt. I look like a total dump next to her.”

“So does everybody else in the universe. Besides, Gina’s practically in Tommy Lowell’s lap.”

“But Patti and Kate are there, too. And the Banks brothers.”

Luka snorted. “Are you really going to let the Pretty People stop you?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Sydney tried to swallow past the dryness in her throat. She’d been daydreaming about this for years, and actually planning to do it for months—ever since Luka convinced her she had nothing to lose. But one glance at Cam Thatcher, surrounded by the most popular kids in school, and she’d decided there was a lot she could lose. Her dignity, for one. And her heart. “This is a bad idea,” she said. “And seniors don’t go to junior prom, anyway.”

“Tommy and the Banks boys are going.”

“Well, Cam isn’t. Because I’m not asking him.”

“Sydney, my love.” Luka threw an arm around her and hauled her upright. “Remind me. How long have you been obsessed with Cameron Thatcher?”

She scowled. “I am not obsessed.”

“Really? Let’s read your notebook.” Luka snatched at her bag.

“Okay!” she laughed, twisting out of reach. “Maybe I am, a little.”

“Just a teensy bit.”

A hesitant smile forced its way across her face. The truth was, she’d been in love with Cam ever since the sixth grade, when her class visited the Thatcher ranch on a field trip. Cam, then a seventh grader, had stayed home from school to help give the tour—and when Sydney got separated from the rest of the kids because she’d lingered behind to watch the baby chicks, he’d been the one to find her.

But instead of bringing her right back to the group, he stayed in the barn and gave her a private tour.

They talked about the incubators for a while, which he told her that he’d built himself. Then he showed her an ancient motorcycle with a few shiny new parts, and explained shyly that it was a Harley Super Glide, and he was restoring it. He’d brought her up to the loft, where there was a breathtaking view of the ranch spread and the horse fields. Then they sat in the gorgeous horse-drawn carriage that Mr. Thatcher always brought to town events and talked about school, life on the ranch, everything and anything.

For a few incredible hours, Sydney had been in heaven. At least until the others realized they were missing. Mr. Thatcher had been furious with Cam, and the teacher was none too pleased with Sydney. But just before her class boarded the bus to head back to school, Cam had sought her out. He squeezed her hand and whispered in her ear, “You were worth it.”

She never did know what Cam’s father had done about the scare they’d given everyone. With her parents, it’d been a stern lecture about being responsible and a lot of hugs. But those whispered words had stayed with her all these years.

Now she was scared to death that they hadn’t meant anything—at least to him.

Luka cleared her throat loudly, bringing her back to the present. “You’re stalling, Syd.”

“And your point is?” She heaved a sigh. Luka was right…in a few months, Cam would graduate and she’d barely see him anymore. This was her only chance. And if he said no—which really was the worst that could happen—maybe she could finally stop pining away for him and get on with her life. Right after she picked up the pieces of her broken heart. “All right,” she said. “Here I go.”

Luka grinned. “I’m right behind you.”

“Thanks.” She flashed a quick smile, turned, and walked into the cafeteria.

As usual, the place was a zoo. And the closer she got to the popular kids’ table, the more her determination drained. Her stomach shivered and rolled, and her legs felt like sacks of water. Was she really going to ask Cam Thatcher, the most gorgeous guy in town, to go to the prom with her in front of the entire collective power of the senior class?

He glanced her way—and he smiled. All deep tan and black hair and white teeth, his hazel-gold eyes dancing. That smile was all it took for her to close the distance and stop in front of his table.

“Hi, Cam.” She fought to keep the squeak out of her voice and ignore the stares of the Pretty People. He was all that mattered. “Um, how are you?”

Oh, brilliant. Could she have started out any lamer?

Cam arched a dark brow. “Fine,” he said. “Sydney, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Her heart pounded harder than ever. That definitely didn’t sound like warm recognition. A few snickers and whispers rose from his friends, but she filtered them out and pressed on.
Now or never.
“Listen, I was wondering if you had…I mean, I wanted to ask if you’d—” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and blurted, “Would you like to go to the junior prom with me?”

The whole cafeteria seemed to fall silent with the question. Cam stared at her, his eyes wide and darkening fast. For an instant she saw pain in those eyes, and a desperate sorrow that stung her heart.

And then, he laughed.

The sound froze her blood. It wasn’t a polite chuckle, or even a condescending snort. This was loud, hearty laughter that kept getting stronger, until he was holding his stomach and practically doubled over.

It wasn’t long before the rest of the table was laughing right along with him.

Gina Wyatt clung to Tommy Lowell’s arm, giggling into his shoulder. Patti Smith shrieked and pointed, laughing so hard that she could barely get enough breath for the next one. The mood rippled outward, infecting just about everyone else until the entire cafeteria buzzed with laughter.

Hot tears filled Sydney’s eyes. Her face burning, she stumbled back, dimly aware of Luka screaming obscenities in Cam’s general direction. If she didn’t breathe soon, she was going to choke. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, though. Dying had to feel better than this.

She turned blindly, tried to bolt. And wound up covered in the contents of some kid’s lunch tray who’d been standing right behind her.

The impact knocked her down, and the last of the tray tilted onto the top of her head. Cold milk and warm gravy splashed her hair and dripped down her neck. She gasped in a great, tearing breath and scrambled up as the chaos swelled around her.

Cam and Tommy were on their feet, shouting at each other. A lunch aide was pulling a still-screaming Luka away from the crowd, and the vice principal was pushing through laughing, cheering students, headed for the shouting match. Gina, Patti and Kate had formed a semi-circle behind the table. They were still giggling and pointing.

Sydney folded her arms across her lurching stomach and sank to the floor, sobbing. Her heart ached so sharply, she was sure it would explode in her chest. She stayed there until two teachers broke through the mob and led her away.

At least she couldn’t hear them anymore. For her, the world had ended with a laugh.

Chapter 1

Six years later

Sydney had spent all day working up the nerve to come out to the Leaning T Ranch. Now that she was here, right outside the gates, all those nerves were shifting into overdrive and turning her insides to mush.

But if she wanted a horse-drawn carriage for her wedding, she had to ask Cam Thatcher.

She almost talked herself out of it. The Leaning T was the only ranch in town, but there had to be someplace over in Greenway or Valley Ridge with a carriage. It would just be a lot more expensive. Or she could go without one.

“You’re being stupid, Syd,” she lectured herself firmly. “That was high school, this is now. Get moving.”

She took a deep breath, dropped the pickup into drive, and motored slowly through the gates. This might’ve been the last place in the world she wanted to be, but she couldn’t help appreciating the scenery. She hadn’t been out here since that long-ago field trip, an event she’d refused to think about for the last six years.

Vernon Thatcher had passed away suddenly, the summer after Cam graduated. There hadn’t been any field trips to the Leaning T since, for anyone.

A well-maintained, tree-lined drive led to the main house—a country-red two-story with a long, screened porch, set back on a meticulous lawn. A weathered barn flanked by a silo rose up behind it, and a few chickens wandered in the side yard, strutting and bobbing like small, feathered emperors.

It was peaceful and pretty. The kind of place she’d always pictured herself living in. She’d planned on living in Covendale the rest of her life, maybe running her own business. She just didn’t know what kind of business, yet.

But in a few weeks she’d be Mrs. Thomas Lowell and on her way to New York City, where Tommy had a new job waiting for him at a big television station. She still couldn’t believe it. Leaving the town where she’d grown up was a scary prospect, but working in television was Tommy’s dream. She was determined to help him make it come true, even if it meant she’d have to put off her own business a while. Being an entrepreneur in New York was way too expensive.

First, though, they were going to have a big country wedding. And Sydney wanted everything to be as perfect as possible.

She parked in the driveway and cut off the engine, then opened the door and got out before she could change her mind and drive away. A slight breeze tickled her hair, carrying birdsong and the distant whicker-snort of horses. She breathed in the scents of the ranch—fragrant grass, sawdust and fresh dirt, hints of diesel fuel and motor oil.

A loud crack split the air, making her jump.

When her heart settled back to normal, she took a few hesitant steps toward the house, and the cracking sound repeated. She managed not to jump this time. It sounded like it was coming from the barn, so she headed there hoping she’d find a ranch hand to talk to about the carriage. Cam had made himself scarce when he finished high school, and outside of the occasional loud blur as he zipped by on that motorcycle of his, hardly anyone had seen him in town since.

She definitely hadn’t. And she wouldn’t mind keeping it that way.

Just before she rounded the corner of the house, another crack rolled through the air. This time she made out a double thump chasing the sound. Out back, there was a man wrenching an axe from a big tree stump next to the barn. Freshly split wood littered either side of the stump, and off to the side was a stack of fat, uncut stove-lengths.

The man himself faced away from her. He was shirtless and muscled, bronzed skin gleaming with sweat. A thick scar marked the small of his back, making an inverted cross of his spine. His dark, shoulder-length hair shone almost red in the sun. He wore only jeans and boots, but there was a blue cotton work shirt and a black cowboy hat hung neatly from a nearby post. So he was a ranch hand.