Most Eligible Cowboy (Peach Valley Romance Book 1)

C
arly Morgan

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C
an
an ailing man’s ultimatum be Jackson and Maya’s greatest blessing?

A
mateur photographer Maya Vance
needed a do over after catching her husband of eight months cheating with her best friend. Her favorite aunt Patty provides just the escape. She’s recently opened a sixty-five acre bed and breakfast in her small town called the Palace in Peach Valley and asks Maya to take pictures for her marketing brochures.

Permanently unattached Jackson Bale was supposed to take over his family’s ranch, but his ailing father won’t hand over the reins until he proves he’s ready to settle down. His father has given him sixty days to find a woman and marry her or he’ll sell the ranch to some corporate big wigs that have been after the land for years.

Within hours of his father’s ultimatum, the whole town knows. Women he hasn’t heard from since high school start coming out of the woodwork, flaunting their feminine wiles in the hope of catching Peach Valley’s most eligible cowboy.

It isn’t until he meets the vibrant Maya Vance that he thinks marriage might be a possibility. But she’s heard of the ultimatum too and wants no part of it. Jackson isn’t to be deterred. Despite his father’s wishes and the land, he knows he’s met the love of his life and will do whatever it takes to win her over.

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T
he apartment felt
cold and barren as she walked through it a final time. Maya had wiped down the cream walls as well as the counters in the bathroom and the kitchen. She’d swept and mopped the tile floors so that the rooms smelled of cleaning products. Now that the rooms were empty, she felt better. There was nothing to remind her of the sham of a marriage she’d been a part of while living there. Ever the optimist, she wanted to believe that the trials she’d endured were for her good and she had hope for a future filled with happiness.

As a young girl, Maya dreamed of becoming two things: a mom and a teacher. At twenty-seven she still hadn’t accomplished either goal, mainly because on her way to getting a teaching degree, she took a photography class. During the first lecture, her teacher gave them the assignment to find something beautiful and take a picture of it. Over the next two days Maya searched, taking dozens of pictures. Of flowers, birds, buildings, the ocean, the beach, even fruit. The photos all turned out fine, but weren’t quite right. They were just pictures.

On the morning before class, Maya went for a walk in a park near her college campus to clear her head. A mother pushed her child in a safety swing. Both had long, blond hair, and as the child went up, the suns’ rays caught hold of the locks, giving her a golden halo. The child had giggled and laughed with such abandon while the mother smiled and spoke softly. It was a moment of pure joy and Maya wanted to capture it. After asking the mom if it was okay, she snapped a few pictures. Photo after photo appeared in her camera and while the mom and child were lovely, it was so much more than that. Each frame had seized a portion of exuberant elation. Maya felt as though she’d found and bottled a rare butterfly. But instead of killing it and pinning it to a corkboard, she’d given the moment an eternity of life and breath. In that instant she decided that if she could live the rest of her life being a part of such an experience and sharing it with others, then she would be fulfilled.

Her professor recognized her talent and encouraged her to pursue it. The next day, Maya changed her major and didn’t look back. Since then she’d spent countless hours capturing moments and bottling rare butterflies. One of her favorite instructors said, “Maya, each photograph should inspire a story, even from a hundred feet away. It doesn’t matter if the story you inspire in others is the one you meant to tell. A great photograph utters a different tale to the individual who looks at it.”

That piece of advice stuck with Maya. Well, that and the secret truth that resonated within her, which was that as she structured a picture through the eye of her lens, she felt closer to God. It was as though He’d given her a gift. Maya believed with her whole heart that she needed to share it. Because of that feeling, she didn’t regret a single instant of her choice. Not even a little bit.

After graduating from college, she got a job with a small foodie magazine and spent most of her days making food look amazing. One of her photos had even won an award.

It was at that job that Maya met Quin Carone. He owned the magazine she worked for. Born of Italian immigrant parents, he was tall, dark, and handsome with such a fire for food and later for her. Looking back, she thought she might have fallen in love with his passion for art more than him. Before she knew it, she and Quin were married. She’d believed it to be a happy time in her life. They’d discussed having children and tried, but it’d never happened for them. He’d been secretive from the beginning, but she let it slide, believing it was the artist in him. It hadn’t been about art, but about being a jerk.

Eight months into their marriage, Maya came home from work early to discover Quin and her best friend, Violet in bed together. Her camera still hung around her neck, and she’d snapped a picture without thinking. She’d found out later that Quin had married her because of a bet. His friends hadn’t believed the sweet Christian girl would fall for the lady’s man. He’d been determined to prove them wrong. And she’d fallen for his lies. Love had had nothing to do with it. It’d been a life lesson that still stung. One she didn’t know whether she’d ever recover from.

Their divorce had been final for months. He’d gone his way, moving out of the apartment they’d shared, and she’d numbly gone hers. Maya had vowed to never again be played so thoroughly by a man or anyone.

And the picture she’d taken?

It remained trapped within her camera. Worse, it burned along the synapses of her mind. She would recall the image at the most inopportune times, and her job suffered. What made matters worse was Quin seemed to be everywhere. They ran in the same circles and had the same friends. On top of that, her ex best friend clung to his side like he was her sun and she was his flower.

Six weeks ago everything came crashing down around her when Maya attended a work party. Quin and Violet were there. She knew they would be, but had believed she was ready to face them and their treachery.

“Can I have your attention,” Quin said, tapping his champagne flute lightly. He stood at the top of the stairs in the office. Desks and cubicles filled the open area, but he still looked like a king speaking to his subjects and Maya groaned, hiding in the break room. The lights were off in there, but she’d left the door open so she could still hear what he had to say.

Once the room had quieted, Quin began, “I want to congratulate everyone on a job well done this past year. It’s because of each of you that Foodie Magazine has increased its circulation by fifteen percent. Everyone give yourself a round of applause.” He paused so that everyone could clap and cheer. When it died down, he went on, “Second, and this is personal, I wanted you to hear my incredibly good news. Violet, can you come up here?”

Gasps and squeals of delight rushed through the crowd. “It is with sincere happiness and great joy that I announce the beautiful Violet Douglas and I are getting married.”

As the crowd cheered, Maya sank into a red, plastic chair. She didn’t cry, but she felt like she would be sick. Right then she decided she would no longer work for him or the magazine. What she needed was a change of scenery. That night she called her mom in tears, even though it was long distance since her mom and dad were in Africa, but she didn’t care. She’d blubbered to her mom for more than an hour, spilling the details of all she’d been going through. When she finished, she felt better. She always did after talking to her mom. The next morning her favorite aunt called with an opportunity she couldn’t refuse.

Now, as she shifted her faded red VW bug into drive, she glanced at her landlady through the window. “Good-bye, Mrs. Madison,” she said. The old woman with pink curlers still wrapped in her short white hair, smiled. Maya waved. “Thanks for everything.”

“See you, Maya. Drive safely.”

“I will.” Maya drove down the street that paralleled the ocean. At the stop sign, she glanced out the driver’s side window toward the beach. Surfers dotted the waves, waiting for the chance to catch that flawless wave. She’d learned to surf, but hadn’t loved it the way some people do. She preferred the sounds of the waves, the squawking of the gulls as they dipped and dove, searching for food, and the feel of the sand between her toes.

Maya took a deep breath, knowing she wouldn’t be near the ocean again for a long time. The air smelled lightly of brine and of Mexican food from her favorite taco truck up the way. She drove by, admiring the blue sky and the people on the beach, waiting for sadness or nostalgia to settle in her stomach, but there wasn’t any. She saw the homeless man sitting on his regular bench, feeding stale bread to some birds.

“See ya, Frankie,” she hollered. He looked up and she waved wildly. “Thanks for teaching me how to play the guitar.”

He smiled; showing off his silver capped teeth and returned her wave. “You’re welcome, Maya. Hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“I will.” She spoke the words with more optimism than she felt. Adjusting her rearview mirror, she focused on the road ahead, and her chance at a new beginning.

* * *

M
aya took
exit two hundred and thirty-five off Interstate eighty. Her trip of more than a thousand miles in two days was nearly over and she was ready. According to the directions her aunt had provided (turned out GPS couldn’t locate Peach Valley, Wyoming), she was getting close. The email she’d printed said it was just another seven miles. She came to a stop at a stop sign and turned right. A gas station loomed on her right. On her left held nothing but land. Mountains stood large and beautiful in the distance, regal as sentries ushering her into her new life.

After a mile, she came to another stop sign and turned left. A wooden sign welcomed her to Peach Valley, Wyoming. Soon enough she was on what she believed to be the town’s main street, or more correctly, the town’s epicenter. In the middle stood a vastly green park complete with a gazebo and picnic tables as well as swings, two slides, and four teeter-totters. All around the park were stores including clothing, a grocery store, several different café’s and restaurants, and a chocolate store, an ice cream shoppe, and a few she couldn’t identify from the signs. The town was quaint, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Santa Barbara. And that filled Maya with a sense of peace. Quin, her awful ex had never been to Peach Valley. She could take comfort now that he never would. Peach Valley was too small, too beneath him, she knew.

At Peach Street, she turned right. Then took a left onto Interstate Five, a two-way highway with nothing but flat land, land, and more land. In the distance she could see what she believed to be her Aunt Patty’s new bed and breakfast. The style of the house was Victorian and looked to have three stories, at least from the number of windows on the outside. The exterior had been painted peach with white trim. The roof was dark gray. Her aunt told her the palace contained eight themed suites, each with a jetted tub, a steam shower, and a king sized bed. Slightly behind the house and to the left stood an enormous stable also painted peach with white trim, and a dark gray roof. There were eight stalls. Behind and to the right was a pond with a boathouse. Several colorful, two seat boats were tied to the dock. To the right of that was a sizeable orchard. Maya guessed they were peach tress, but would have to take a closer look to know for sure. Along the edge facing the pond stood three cottages, all had a full porch with three steps leading up to them. They’d been painted white with peach trim, and the same gray roof. As a backdrop were the mountains, filled with greenery and wildflowers in fuchsia, lavender, and white. Every direction she faced had Maya aching to get out her camera. It was a feeling she hadn’t had in weeks, and it filled her with happiness.

A white vinyl three rail fence surrounded the complex with a large sign hanging above the entry with the words: The Palace in Peach Valley.

Maya smiled, allowing the feat to hurt her cheeks. She pulled up to the front of the palace and put her car in park. Opened her door and got out. Before she had enough time to stretch properly, two men dressed in white western shirts, dark pants and matching cowboy boots came down the stairs toward her.

“Welcome to the Palace. Do you have a reservation?” The dark haired young man’s voice held a distinctive country twang.

The other man, with dirty blond hair gave the guy who’d spoken a cursory look before facing Maya. “We aren’t open for business yet. My
friend
here is practicing. Is there something I can help you with?” His voice held zero country twang, but a slight hint of hostility.

“Yes,” Maya began, twisting at the waist, trying to wake up her bum. “I’m here to see Patty Montgomery.”

“That’s fine. Do you have an appointment?”

Maya wiped the smile off her face. “She’s my aunt and yes, she’s expecting me.”

“Ah, you must be Maya then?” the first guy asked, hooking his thumb in a front pocket.

“That’s right.”

“Come on then,” the second guy said.

They both turned and went up the stairs. Before they reached the top, her aunt appeared and Maya’s smiled returned. “Aunt Patty,” she breathed, excited to see her.

“Hiya Maya.” Patty was dressed in jeans, bright pink cowboy boots, and a matching pink shirt with a black crochet vest over the top. Her uber short hair was a flawless mess, standing up in random places. Patty called her hairstyle beyond bedhead, which described the look exactly. Her hair was red and brown, with streaks of blond throughout. Patty’s tan skin wrinkled at the eyes, a sure sign her aunt was a happy woman. Maya felt better just looking at her.

Patty bounded down the stairs and swept Maya up in a hug. “Glad you made it. How was your drive?” Her aunt smelled like peaches and sunshine. Maya’s smile got bigger. “I wasn’t expecting ya for another hour or two.”

“It was fine. Long. And I know, but I was anxious to get here. Hope that’s okay.”

Patty pushed her back so they could see each other. “Are you kiddin me? I’ve been like a newborn colt, bounding around here desperate to see you. Just ask these young men. I’ve been bucking with anxiousness, haven’t I?”