Taming The Cowboy (She's in Charge Book 4) Read online

  Taming the Cowboy

  Layla Valentine

  Contents

  Taming the Cowboy

  1. Ruth

  2. Calvin

  3. Ruth

  4. Ruth

  5. Ruth

  6. Ruth

  7. Ruth

  8. Ruth

  9. Ruth

  10. Calvin

  11. Ruth

  12. Ruth

  13. Ruth

  14. Ruth

  15. Ruth

  16. Calvin

  17. Ruth

  18. Ruth

  19. Ruth

  20. Calvin

  21. Ruth

  22. Ruth

  Call Him Prince Daddy

  1. Jacques

  Want More?

  Also by Layla Valentine

  Taming the Cowboy

  Copyright 2020 by Layla Valentine

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Ruth

  As I stood there under the hot stage lights giving my speech, my heart was beating in my ears, and I marveled every time that a sentence came out clearly and sounded competent. My imposter syndrome, a constant plague, was chewing at me, trying to make me too nervous to talk.

  It had almost succeeded a few times, forcing me to pause and reach for my water glass. Women in leadership was a hot-button issue in the business world, and I knew that I was risking backlash for it in today’s political climate. But as I stood there looking out over a sea of businesswomen young and old, I knew that I couldn’t let them down. The International Women in Advertising Conference had chosen me to give the keynote address for a reason.

  At least I was almost done with my speech. For a long while there, I had gone on in fear of the moment I would stumble over the words, lose my place in my notes, and end up going silent from embarrassment and panic. But somehow, I was getting through it without a single hitch. Maybe some of that practice in the mirror.

  “The more we as corporate leaders allow women to fall behind in retention and career advancement, the more talent we will lose to companies in open-minded industries. And that’s why I can’t stress enough the importance of making sure that the glass ceiling is a thing of the past in the advertising sphere. Thank you for listening.”

  The thunderous applause that washed over me nearly startled me out of my business pumps. I stood stock-still, blinking out at my audience for a moment, then smiled, bowed slightly, and waved to them on my way off the stage.

  I did it. I actually got through that and most of them even liked it. Score!

  I was too exhausted to do much at the conference after that. I did stick around to shake some hands and answer a few questions, but the whole time, I could feel myself fading. I had no idea that giving a speech would wear me out like this. But there was no way I could have passed up the opportunity.

  RPW Inspired, my baby, was already a Fortune 500 company. But if I wanted to elevate my business to the next level, it would take more than financial success or market share. It would take a strong public reputation—and that meant giving back. The keynote speech was just one example.

  I was giddily happy that it had gone well.

  I had to stop in the convention center’s bathroom on my way out just to pull myself together. Gregory—my head of security, who was doubling as my driver tonight—would become concerned if I came out too frazzled. He had wanted to come in with me, but having a gigantic, forbidding-looking bodyguard following me around would have made me stick out ridiculously. Especially at a business conference in the middle of suburban Austin, Texas.

  My curly auburn hair had gone wild from the humidity. I straightened it as best as I could while bending forward over the sink. The mirror was set a little high for me—short-people problems. I huffed in frustration but managed to tame my curls down and get them into a vintage hair clip, then smoothed the front of my sea-green suit.

  I’ll have to call Mom and Dad and let them know it went well. I don’t know how well yet—only time and internet buzz will tell me that—but I didn’t choke, and I received a lot of applause. I think they’ll be pleased. That made me find my smile again after the fight with my hair, and I grabbed my bag and headed out.

  Stepping outside felt like walking into waves of warm ocean spray. The wind blew against me in humid slaps. I gasped and leaned into gusts, clutching my bag in front of me.

  A minute later a familiar car drove up beside me, and Gregory jumped out to open the door for me. I slid into the car’s cool interior gratefully. He waited until we were both buckled up before pulling out into the flow of traffic.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  “A lot of applause, and I didn’t fall on my face—so excellent, really. I think volunteering to give that speech was a very strategic public relations move.”

  Gregory wasn’t the kind of man to smile a lot. He was a war vet and very reserved—almost as quiet as he was huge. So I wasn’t surprised when he simply nodded and said, “Good. Any further stops tonight?”

  “No, I’m beat. Home it is.” I was going to get a nice long nap and then wake up to celebrate when it wasn’t so hot.

  I was lucky that the conference had been in town. Last year I had traveled halfway across the state for it.

  Having Gregory to drive me made life easier. I trusted him more than almost anyone in the world, but he couldn’t protect me from airsickness or exhaustion. And being as successful as I was meant always being busy.

  Sometimes, I longed to take my money, leave the city behind, and spend the rest of my life running a ranch out in the countryside. It would still mean a lot of work, but I would be doing it in clean air, without the crowds, without the nonstop demands on my time and energy that had me worn out by four in the afternoon on a Friday.

  I had only been on a ranch a few times, at camp as a child. I had spent an awful lot of time cozying up to the animals, and once the camp coordinators had realized they could get me to volunteer to help clean animal pens if it meant spending more time with them, they had totally exploited me. I hadn’t minded, though. I had never been afraid of work, or dirt, or physical effort. And even cows and pigs, which were gigantic when full-grown, could still be dealt with if you stayed calm and learned what was needed to work with them.

  I already knew that my eventual retirement lay out there in the country, on rolling, golden acres under an endless sky. But as Gregory fought traffic on my behalf, those thoughts came to me again.

  Wouldn’t I be happier if I walked away from all of this now?

  Ridiculous, of course. As founder and CEO, RPW Inspired was my brainchild. I was deeply proud of it and all I had accomplished through it. I was proud of my work with my community and industry, with colleges and nonprofits. I couldn’t do all of that if I ran away to the country.

  I also worried a bit about disappointing my parents. I wanted to make them both proud, and I doubted I could do that raising chickens.

  Oh, well. It’s not like I can’t go and do it in a few decades. The desire not to wait was irresponsible, but the dream itself was just fine.

  As we pulled into the parking lot of my condo, which sat on the shore of a
n artificial lake, Gregory touched his earpiece. “Parkinson says there’s positive buzz coming in about your speech. Give it a look after you rest.”

  Just the tiniest edge to his voice. Giant Gregory, with his petite wife and four adorable kids, had adopted me as family somewhere along the way, at least in his heart.

  I laughed gently. “Understood, big guy. I’ll see you Monday.”

  As soon as I got inside my three-story condo and cranked the air-conditioning, I checked my phone and saw multiple email and text messages waiting for me. I checked a few of them and was stunned to find that they were all congratulations. Business colleagues, subordinates, board members, academic associates and relatives were sharing footage of the speech and talking about how popular it was becoming.

  I only gave the speech an hour ago. But that was the power of the internet; it could make or break you in under a day.

  Bewildered and gratified, I went to grab a shower and slip into a sleeveless sundress, the cotton sticking to me a little even after rinsing off. The air-conditioning did a lot for the heat, but nothing for the humidity. I knew why. Storm coming. Outside my giant floor-to-ceiling windows, the sky was darkening alarmingly.

  That was fine. The rain would help me sleep, and God willing, help to cool things down outside.

  I had lived in Austin my whole life, so I was used to its weather quirks, including the sudden storms. Of course, my parents being who they were, I had watched most of those storms from the shelter of a climate-controlled penthouse. But I had still taken note of them.

  Even back then, I wanted to be out in the rain instead of just watching it. Or better yet, curled up in a cozy farmhouse, listening to the rain tap on the windows and the tin roof of my barn.

  At that thought, another longing haunted me. My condo was so empty. I hadn’t dated anyone in over six months, and even then, it had never panned out into anything serious. I didn’t have the time, and no guy that I had ever met had really struck sparks with me. It was nice to lay there in the dim light of early evening watching the rain streak my bedroom windows. It would have been nicer to do it with someone that I really liked.

  I’m still young, I thought, which was true enough. At thirty-four, I had accomplished an awful lot in a short time. Surely I could figure out how to attract a good man as well—once I had the time. My busy schedule was one of my obstacles to a good relationship.

  I really should make more of an effort to get out there and meet men, though, I thought with a sigh as I sank into sleep. I really couldn’t chalk it all up to bad luck, after all.

  The ring of my phone at my bedside woke me up hours later. I checked the number: it was my mom. I picked up, stifling a yawn.

  She caught it, though. “Oh, did I wake you, honey? You must be tired after today’s excitement.”

  “It’s fine, Mom, I didn’t want to sleep too long anyway, and I meant to call you. How are things going?” I sat up, letting the silk sheet slide down to my hips.

  “We’re just so proud of you for giving that speech!” she said excitedly, surprising and gratifying me. “Congratulations, honey, your father and I both mean that.”

  “Is he back from London?” I was even more surprised that my father had already learned the news.

  “No, dear, it’s gone international. I know you never wanted to become famous for giving a speech, but this one has really made a splash!”

  I got up, frowning as I smoothed my cotton sleepshirt down over my thighs. “I haven’t checked the news yet.”

  “Well, by all means, darling, go do so. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

  Mom sounded almost gushy, which threw me for a loop. I was used to warm-but-qualified compliments, tempered as much by her experience as a CEO as her experience as a mom. This was new, and a touch overwhelming.

  “I will,” I said. “How are you doing otherwise?”

  “Oh, you know, still neck-deep in wrangling over design patents. That’s going to be my life for at least another month. Your dad’s having some better luck heading R and D, but over in Legal, we’re having one opportunity after another to prove that getting a law degree was worthwhile.”

  Her tone was so dry that I had to stifle a laugh. “Sorry, Mom.”

  “That’s all right. The news about you brightened my day considerably.”

  Her voice was so warm. It was so nice to get acknowledgment from one of the two people in the world that I really wanted to impress. I was beaming.

  “I’m really glad to hear that,” I said. “Did you want to go out to dinner sometime this weekend to celebrate?”

  “Oh, dear, I can’t. I have the Switzerland deal.”

  My smile only faded a little. “Oh, right.”

  “Right, sorry.” I heard keys clicking. “Raincheck for the week after?”

  “That sounds good.” I wasn’t disappointed. My mother was at a level of busyness that I had never achieved in my adult life. “Just let me know where and when you want to meet.”

  “I will, dear. Get back to your nap, now.” Her voice teased, just a tiny bit. “Take care!”

  I signed off cheerfully enough, but frowning thoughtfully as well. What had I missed online by taking a nap? I went into my study to find out.

  Almost immediately, I found myself so shocked that I couldn’t even figure out what to think about it all. Not only private praise, not only industry people, but whole news articles devoted to covering my speech. I scrolled through it all, noticing a whole lot of support from men and women alike, and from academics and laypeople as well.

  “Wow,” I breathed. I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d done right, besides being outspoken and articulate about gender equity in business. Meanwhile, my inbox and social media were full of kudos, from my assistant down to people I had never heard of before.

  As the weekend went on, I kept getting more messages and more positive press. Most of the press even included details on my business, instead of simply referring to me as a local entrepreneur. That was good—far more important than my personal credit was the boost it could give my business.

  But I made a mistake as I rolled into Sunday morning with my coffee cup and logged on for my next round of praise and good news. I let my guard slip. I let myself think that praise was the only possible reaction I would get from people besides silence.

  I was wrong. I knew that as soon as I checked the social media sites.

  The negative messages weren’t many, but there were enough of them to leave me cold and shaking. Death threats. Rape threats. A three-page long threat that combined them both.

  I knew right away what kind of creatures had sent them. There was a large group of “men” online who were trying to make a political movement out of their hatred of women. Every time a woman had any kind of a triumph, they went off in such an enormous, disproportionate tantrum against her that it had started discouraging women from celebrating their victories online.

  I was disgusted. And I wanted to fight back. So when it grew late enough in the day to justify a call, I phoned up our IT guy, Albert, and asked him to start tracking the threats.

  By the time I walked into my glittering top-floor office the next morning, there were dozens of threats, and Gregory and the board wanted to talk to me. None of that was at all a good sign.

  It made me angry. I didn’t know yet how we were going to deal with it all, but I sure resented a bunch of angry, sexist little boys deciding to crap all over my victory.

  Chapter 2

  Calvin

  I came back to my apartment to a note on my door about overdue rent, and an almost-empty fridge inside. The heat wafted in through the open window, the breeze coming in too thick with moisture to provide any relief. I went over to shut it, my free hand balled into a fist and a curse caught behind my teeth.

  Don’t call us, we’ll call you. Even the rankest Hollywood amateur knew what that meant, and it had pissed me off to hear it yet again at my audition that afternoon. But there was nothing else to d
o for it but go out tomorrow and try the whole damn thing again.

  I took a shower to cool down and wash off the sweat that had gathered under my suit. I still couldn’t understand why they hadn’t picked me. I had the right look for the part: short black hair, blue eyes, tall and athletic, well-dressed. I had delivered my lines flawlessly.

  But here I was now, still broke, debating between spending the last of my cash on a cheap slice of pepperoni pizza or struggling to put together a meal from the bits in my cupboard and fridge. This really isn’t what I signed up for when I moved here to become a star.

  Maybe I had simply not done enough to make myself stand out. But I suspected that this was largely a matter of connections, influence, and a particular type of bribery. Most actors were locked out of big parts entirely due to their lack of bankable fame and industry pull. It was like being stuck at the bottom of a ladder with the next rung just out of reach.

  It was just a bit part, I told myself. Nothing that could have made or broken my career, such as it is.

  But I was still frustrated. Money was money, and it had been two months without so much as a commercial to tide me over. I would have to pull out the last of my savings just to cover groceries at this rate, and I could only mollify Bill, my landlord, for so long. My assortment of burger-flipping jobs, taken on to sustain me while I waited for my big break, just didn’t cover my expenses.

  …There’s the ranch.

  The thought came unbidden: my parents’ ranch, still in probate after Mom’s death, was still there, slowly falling into disrepair. I could sell the place, I knew, and make money enough to tide me over for some time. But the idea of selling it made me sick to my stomach. I had left ranching to chase a dream of acting, but that didn’t mean I wanted to sell off land that had been in my family for four generations.