Page 1 of Bringing Home A Cowboy
Chapter 1
Olivia
After a two-hour drive from the Denver airport, I just need answers. Snow falls softly outside the tall courthouse windows, the kind of Colorado snow that muffles the world. I stare at the attorney across the oak desk, my mind snagging on a single word that doesn’t make sense.
“Married?” My voice catches somewhere between disbelief and a nervous laugh. “You’re saying I have to be married by Christmas?”
Mr. Harlan adjusts his glasses and nods, completely unruffled. “Your grandfather’s will was quite clear, Ms. Martin. If you wish to inherit the Martin Ranch and the accompanying estate funds … you must be legally marriedbefore December twenty-fifth.” He checks his watch. “That gives you, oh, about two weeks.”
I press a hand to my forehead. “Of course it does. Because why would anything in this family be simple?”
Cady Springs hasn’t changed much since my childhood visits. Same quaint town with shops lining the main thoroughfare that features one stoplight. Still the same diner with old-fashioned root beer mugs and Christmas lights that stay up year-round. My grandfather loved this place with his whole heart. He loved me too, once. But apparently, he also had a twisted sense of humor.
Why am I the only grandchild to have conditions put upon my inheritance?
My gaze drifts to the snow beyond the window, and a pang of memory cuts through the stark white. Summers at the ranch were golden with Grandpa teaching me to bottle-feed calves, late nights on the porch swing while crickets sang, and the smell of a campfire on storytelling nights. Those were the only times in my life I felt truly alive.
The city buried that version of me under deadlines and elevator pitches, but the ranch was the one place that always felt like home. I can’t let it go. Not now. Not when it’s the last piece of him I have left … and not when a sizable trust fund comes with it, money my siblings can never touch.
“Is there any ... clause? Alternate option?” I ask hopefully.
The lawyer shakes his head. “Marriage by Christmas, or the ranch reverts to the county trust.”
I lean back, staring at the ceiling. Married. In two weeks. To who? New York has a lot of bachelors but mostare career driven and bar hopping at night. They’re not interested in marriage … at least for now. And, I’m on a deadline.
I’ve barely arrived in Cady Springs after driving from the Denver airport and can’t believe I’m hearing this correctly. But, Mr. Harlan has basically laid out a do or die scenario for me.
The thought of a quickie wedding makes my stomach churn. My family would have an absolute field day. My siblings already called to tease me. ‘Olivia got the ranch? That’s cute. Maybe she can turn it into a spa.’ They’d never let me live it down that I married someone just to keep it. I can still hear my sister Caroline’s voice: ‘You were always Grandpa’s charity case.’
I close my eyes and inhale. This trip has already drained me—leaving behind my Manhattan apartment full of unfinished work projects, my carefully curated life unraveling like a snagged thread.
A soft knock at the door pulls me back. Mr. Harlan looks up as the door swings open.
“Sorry to interrupt,” comes a low voice. “You said you needed the last set of fence invoices signed.”
A man steps into the room, removing his hat as he does. Snow dusts his shoulders and the ends of his dark brown hair. His eyes — green with hints of amber — meet mine briefly, polite but unfamiliar. I don’t recognize him, and something tells me he doesn’t recognize me either.
“Oh, James,” Harlan says with a smile. “Come in. I was just meeting with Miss Martin.”
When Mr. Harlan says his name, I glance up. James looks exactly like the kind of man a Colorado winter buildsfrom scratch. Broad-shouldered, tall enough to make the room feel smaller, his black-and-gray flannel peeks from beneath a weathered jacket. Faded jeans, scuffed boots, a cowboy hat tipped just enough to shadow his eyes. He doesn’t say much, but everything about him does. He would be impossible to ignore — anywhere.
He nods once. “Ma’am.”
“James Callahan is the foreman who’s been keeping the ranch running,” Harlan explains. “He’s done a fine job. Miss Martin just arrived today from New York.”
I give a faint smile. “Looks like you’ve been the one holding it together.”
He shifts slightly, modest. “Just doing my part.”
Harlan looks between us. “Don’t be modest, James. By the way, those rustlers you hogtied go to trial in two months. Talked to the prosecutor today.”
“Rustlers?” I question, looking at James.
“Ma’am, just a couple of low-life individuals that needed a lesson.”
Something about the way his jaw tightens at the mention makes me think those rustlers got off easy.
“Olivia, would it be all right if I explained your situation to James? Since he’s responsible for operations, he’ll need to know what’s ahead.”
