nothing I love more than an opposites-attract story, so when I wrote Wrangling the Rancher, I decided to triple down. My hero and heroine, Cole and Taylor, have opposite temperaments, lifestyles and goals. He’s an introvert; she’s an extrovert. He wants to work alone; she wants to be part of a major business. He’s a country guy; she’s a city girl.
I had so much fun writing these two. After working on a guest ranch where he catered to the whims of the often-rich patrons, all Cole wants is to be left alone to farm. After being laid off from her firm, all Taylor wants is another high-powered job. Instead she ends up on her grandfather’s Montana farm, which Cole is leasing. Cole has to deal with yet another privileged city girl and Taylor has to work on the farm to earn her keep. In the process, both Taylor and Cole learn a lot—about themselves.
I hope you enjoy Wrangling the Rancher. If so, please check out the other books in The Brodys of Lightning Creek miniseries, as well as All for a Cowboy, in which Cole is first introduced. I also hope you’ll stop by my website, jeanniewatt.com.
Thank you, and happy reading!
Jeannie
JEANNIE WATT lives on a small hay-and-cattle ranch in Montana’s beautiful Madison Valley with her husband, dogs and cat, horses and ponies. When she’s not writing or dealing with animal matters, Jeannie likes to work on her almost-finished house (is a house ever really done?), horseback ride, read and sew.
To Rachel, my new daughter.
FAILURE DID NOT sit well with Taylor Evans, which was why she did her best to never fail. And she hadn’t…until exactly eight weeks ago today.
Taylor lifted her glass of chardonnay and sipped. It was her last bottle, and she needed to savor every drop. She also needed the false courage if she was going to call her grandfather and confess that she, who’d nailed down full-ride scholarships and been courted by three different companies upon graduating, had been a victim of downsizing—and no one else would hire her.
The truth hurt.
Okay, maybe she’d been a bit vain, thinking she was so integral to her organization that it couldn’t function without her—but in defense of her vanity, how many eighty-hour weeks had she worked for the good of the company? Her cheeks grew warm as she recalled laughing when, after rumors of the reduction in force had started, a colleague stated that everyone was replaceable. She’d rather vehemently disagreed. There were several people in the company, including herself, who were so necessary to the operation that even in this economic climate, they had to be safe. It would be detrimental to the company to cut them loose.
She’d been the first person let go. When she’d been called into her supervisor’s office, she’d assumed that it was to let her in on what was about to happen so that she could help shore things up once the layoffs were announced. Uh…no. Don Erickson had thanked her for her dedication to the company, for the extra time she’d spent working on projects, and then directed her to the next office to discuss severance and the fate of her excellent insurance plan.
Taylor never, ever wanted to experience that cold, numb feeling again. Or to do the walk of shame back to her office, where her belongings had already been packed into a cardboard box. The bus ride home had been hell—until the anger hit. She would get another job with a competing company, and then who would be sorry?
Those thoughts had sustained her for almost two weeks. But when the rent and utilities came due and she hadn’t been called for even one interview, when the headhunters had remained frustratingly unhelpful, she’d known a moment of panic—very similar to what she was feeling now.
Call. Get it over with. Tell Grandpa the truth.
But since Taylor had rarely given her paternal grandfather anything but good news, this was not an easy call. She needed his help.
No. She needed to be bailed out.
Taylor’s throat started to tighten up as she reached for her phone, which was wedged under sixteen pounds of sleeping cat. Max twitched an ear as she tugged the phone out from under him, and then he stretched out to his full length. Telling herself that Max was a big eater so she needed help as much for him as for herself, Taylor dialed her grandfather’s number. It rang four times, which was the norm.
“Hello?”
Taylor froze at the unfamiliar voice, deep and somehow commanding, then held her phone out to check the number. The word Grandpa showed on her screen. Right number. Wrong voice. “Uh…hi. I’m trying to reach Karl Evans.”
“He doesn’t live here.”
Taylor blinked. “What?”
“He’s been gone for almost three weeks.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m renting his place.”
“Your name.”
There was a brief pause, and then the man said, “What’s your name?”
None of your business. Taylor bit her lip. In this day and age, how much information could she afford to give? “Could you please give me the number where I can reach Karl?”
“You don’t have his cell number?”
“My g—Karl doesn’t have a cell phone.”
“He does now.”
That was news. “Then give me the number.”
“Tell me who you are—”
“I’m his granddaughter.”
“Then why don’t you know that your grandfather has a cell phone or that he moved?”
“I—”
“Tell you what…you leave your name and number, and I’ll pass along the message.”
Taylor pressed her lips together to keep from telling this guy what he could do with his suggestion. “Tell my grandfather to call me. I’m his only granddaughter, so there shouldn’t be any mix-ups.”
“That,” the man said softly, “doesn’t speak well for you.”
Then, before she could suggest he take a flying leap, he ended the call, leaving Taylor staring at her phone.
What had just happened?
And more important, who was this guy and where was her grandfather?
* * *
KARL EVANS WAS not answering either his cell phone or his landline. Cole was just about to call his sister when his phone rang in his hand.
“Is everything okay?” Karl asked instead of saying hello. “You called three times.”
“Everything is fine,
