Secret Billionaire's Stubborn Cowgirl (The Secret Billionaires, #1) Read online

  Secret Billionaire’s Stubborn Cowgirl

  By Leslie North

  The Secret Billionaires Series

  Book 1

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  SECRET BILLIONAIRE'S STUBBORN COWGIRL

  First edition. January 7, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Leslie North.

  Written by Leslie North.

  Also by Leslie North

  Jawhara Sheikhs Series

  The Sheikh's Pregnant Bride

  The Sheikh's Troublesome Bride

  The Sheik's Captive Bride

  Karzhov Crime Family Series

  Mafia Boss's Fearless Lover

  Mafia Hitman's Daring Lover

  Mafia Soldier's Irresistible Lover

  Mafia Enforcer's Sassy Lover

  Quabeca Sheiks Series

  The Sheik's Furious Prisoner

  The Sheik's Reluctant Hostage

  The Sheikh's Secret Princess

  The Botros Brothers Series

  Sheikha's Determined Police Officer

  The Denver Men

  CEO's Pregnant Lover

  FBI Agent's Reluctant Lover

  Navy Seal's Innocent Italian

  The Fedosov Family Series

  The Russian's Stubborn Lover

  The Russian's Bold American

  The Russian's Secret Child

  The Royals of Monaco

  The Prince's Pregnant Challenge

  The Lord's Passionate Lover

  The Secret Billionaires

  Secret Billionaire's Stubborn Cowgirl

  Standalone

  Owned by the Navy Seal

  Used By The Master

  Owned By The Navy Seal 2

  The Marine's Virgin Lover

  Owned by the Navy Seal 3

  Yacht Tycoon's Secret Lover: Part 2

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By Leslie North

  Secret Billionaire's Stubborn Cowgirl (The Secret Billionaires, #1)

  Dedications

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Also By Leslie North

  Thank you for downloading ‘Secret Billionaire’s Stubborn Cowgirl’

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  Dedications

  I dedicate this book to you, my loyal readers. Thank you for all the lovely e-mails, reviews, and support. Without you, this wouldn't be possible.

  I’d also like to say a special thank you to Leslie’s Lovelies who have had a huge role in making this book – you’re the best! THANK YOU for all your support:

  Irina Temer

  Kerry Deller

  Jessy

  JJ

  Lynda Coker

  Kim Schlack

  MDHarrison

  Robin Otoole

  Tammi

  Melody Campbell Goeken

  Gwen Osborn

  Betty Pehlman

  Lorraine Guidotti

  Joanne Wright

  Janet Paul

  Carolyn Redden

  Tonni Brown

  Patty Wells

  Raenn

  Kelly Johnson

  Wanda Ross

  Chapter One

  The sound of the slap echoed around the small bar. Lucy Ennis looked down at the hand planted on her ass and then up again.

  “Hey, sugar. Come sit on daddy’s lap.” Sid grinned at her, his face glowing from one beer too many.

  She’d have liked nothing more than to punch him—Sid always got grabby after the seventh beer. But she needed this job. “Honey, you don’t want to be losing that hand, so I suggest movin’ it. Now, Sid.”

  He did, muttering how he was only trying to be friendly. She moved away and ducked behind the bar again, plopping down the case of Bud onto the counter that she’d pulled from the back. She started restocking the cooler.

  Maggie came up to the bar, a pencil tucked behind one ear. “Two Coors for the corner table and Ms. Tyler wants another martini.” Maggie plunked down an empty martini glass on the bar.

  With a nod, Lucy started pulling out the cold Coors. “Three hours left.” She shifted on her feet. She had a bar mat behind the bar, but it didn’t help that much with a ten hour shift.

  Twirling a curl around her finger, Maggie glanced around. “Yeah, with this slim a crowd it’s going to seem like twenty. Not great for the tips.” Maggie sat down at the bar. “What we need are a couple of rich old boys we can marry and bury.”

  Pushing the bangs from her damp forehead, Lucy forced a smile. “Rich is nice, but I’m hanging out for a hard-working man. I want steady.”

  “Honey, with the bills you’ve got hanging over you from your mom being so sick and your dad—”

  “Here’s that martini. Better get it out to Ms. Tyler before she gives you no tip for it being warm.”

  Maggie jumped off the bar stool. “Trust me, honey, go looking for rich.” The front door swung open, the hinge creaking. A man walked in, and not one of their regulars.

  Maggie flashed Lucy a grin. “No shame in calling yourself a gold digger, hon.” Hips swaying in tight jeans, Maggie headed off to deliver her drinks.

  Glancing over to the door, Lucy tried to size up the newcomer.

  He’d turned to the side and was pulling off a battered straw Stetson. The stained brow band told of a lot of years of work and the sagging brim mentioned the Stetson had been worn in all weather. He brushed at a cap of dark curls. His Wranglers looked worn by work, the knees dusty and saggy, his boots rode a little low at the heels. But under his dark brown coat and plaid shirt, she could see muscles and a flat stomach. The coat was a good one—durable, nothing fancy. Just your everyday scrumptious working man, she decided. Then he looked straight at her.

  Her heart slammed into her ribs hard enough to steal her breath. She’d heard about attractions like this—instant and powerful. Her mom had had such a fling in her youth—she’d told Lucy about it just last week. But Lucy had never expected to feel this hot flare, this sizzle under her skin, this instant connection and need.

  She glanced away, focused on wiping down the bar, but she could still feel his eyes—those bright, bright blue eyes on her. Boy could she go with waking up next to those eyes every morning.

  Stetson back in place, he walked to the bar, sat down and lifted a finger. “Draft please. Whatever you got on tap’ll do.”

  She glanced at him. Was she mistaken, or was he eyeing her a little carefully—had he heard Maggie call her a gold digger? Well, a working guy like him had nothing to worry about. He looked like maybe he rode the rodeo circuit—or maybe he just drifted. She had no use for that kind of guy—she was looking for a man who could settle down in one place and make a home. A man totally unlike her dad.

  Snapping out of her daydream about him, Lucy nodded. He might be cute, but she was just a bartender to him. “Coming up!” Pulling a ch
illed mug out of the cooler, tipped it under the peg and filled it slowly. There was an art to getting just enough foam to look good without so much that you didn’t get any beer. Placing the mug in front of him, she watched as he sat back and enjoyed the first sip of his drink.

  “You new around here?” she asked.

  He licked his lips. “Might say that.”

  “Looking for work?”

  “Might say that, too.”

  She blew out a breath. “You don’t talk, much, do you?”

  “Might say that at times as well.”

  “Yeah, seems like you’re a lot of might there.”

  Who was this guy? He wasn’t a local. Timmy over in the corner was eyeing the newcomer as if he was trying to figure out what his deal was. And Sid, who’d grabbed her ass moments befoe, snuck in a couple of glances, too. Probably trying to figure out if the new guy would buy him a drink.

  From the corner of the room, the Packers scored another touchdown on the big screen Roy had installed a month back. A grumble went up along with a weak cheer. Bets were being made, she knew. The game had to compete with Johnny Cash’s singing.

  Mr. Might-Say didn’t turn to watch the game. He seemed intent on enjoying his beer. In the kitchen, Willis dropped a tray of dishes. The clatter echoed through the bar, but the guy at the bar didn’t even look around. He scooted over a touch when Maggie came up to order another martini for Ms. Tyler—and eye the cowboy. Maggie plucked at her thin, low-cut, tight T-shirt. He didn’t return her stare, just gazed down into his mug and nursed his beer. He downed the last gulp and raised a hand to order another.

  Lucy was just pulling the stranger his beer when Sid came over and leaned on the bar. “Come on, baby. Betcha I could give you the ride of your life.” He grinned. He’d had three too many, and she’d had enough, too. Serving the stranger, she called into the back, “Roy, a little help out here.”

  “I’m coming.” Roy pushed out of the back room. Burly and bearded, not many of the drunks gave Roy any problems in Roy’s bar. He glanced from Sid to Lucy. She drummed her fingers on the bar. Rubbing his beard, Roy asked, “What’s the trouble?”

  She jerked a thumb at Sid. “He’s in no shape to drive home.” She left off the ‘again’ from the complaint. She also didn’t want trouble if Sid did try to drive home and wrecked himself—or someone else.

  Roy shook his head. “I’ll get him some coffee.”

  “Great, a wide-awake drunk,” Lucy muttered.

  Leaning on the bar, Sid was now staring at the cowboy. “Do I know you?”

  The cowboy shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

  Sid straightened, and Lucy could see the fight brewing. Sid was going from the grabby stage to the belligerent stage. Heading around to the other side of the bar, Lucy grabbed Sid’s arm. “Come on and sit down. Roy’s bringing you coffee.”

  Sid pulled away from her. He bumped the cowboy’s elbow, spilling the man’s beer on him. Lucy gave a groan. The cowboy climbed off his bar stool and faced Sid. “Seems like you ought to listen to the lady.”

  Pushing his face into the cowboy’s, Sid pushed the man’s broad chest. “I don’t have to—”

  The move came so fast Lucy barely saw it. One second, Sid was bunching his hand into a fist and pulling it back, the next he sprawled face down on the bar, one arm twisted up behind him and yelling.

  Roy came out of the back fast. The cowboy threw up his hands and backed off, but Sid reached for the mug on the bar—and Lucy knew he was going to glass the cowboy. He’d done it before. She stepped in and punched first. Her knuckles connect with Sid’s nose. Burning pain shot up her arm. Sid howled, dropped the mug and clutched his nose.

  She heard Ms. Tyler yell, “That’s right, honey. You show them assholes!”

  Lucy glanced at the cowboy, who was staring at her now, his blue eyes wide. He grinned and threw his hands in the air. “Don’t look at me, darling. I give up.”

  Pointing to the kitchen, Roy muttered, “Need a word, Lucy.”

  She wiped her sore hand on her hip. “I need to—”

  “Now.” Roy turned and headed into the back. Lucy followed, her stomach knotted. Roy never used that tone unless he was seriously ticked.

  She stepped into the kitchen. Willis glanced at her and went back to washing dishes. Roy crossed his arm. “What the hell are you thinking punching out a regular like Sid?”

  “Sid was about to brain that cowboy.”

  “So you punch Sid? What if he decides to sue me now?”

  “You’d rather have that cowboy going after you for getting Sid so drunk he brains the man with a mug? Or have someone come after us for serving Sid when he’s—”

  “Us?” Roy shook his head. “I knew it was a mistake to hire Dave Ennis’ daughter.”

  Face hot, Lucy shook her head. “Roy—”

  “You’re fired.” He pointed to the door. “Get your things and get out. And do me a favor and find another bar if you start drinking as much as your old man did.”

  Skin burning now, she choked down her anger. It wasn’t going to do her any good. Spinning on her feet, she grabbed her purse from the employee’s rest area. Keeping her stare locked straight ahead, she slammed out the front.

  Sliding in the driver’s seat of her battered truck, she put shaking hands on the steering wheel and pulled in a breath. What was she going to do? She needed regular paychecks, meaning she needed a new job fast. But it had been hard enough to get this one. Dave Ennis’ daughter—was she ever going to live down her daddy’s reputation for trouble?

  Starting the engine, the truck groaned, coughed smoke a couple of times and finally started. She turned to head home, but at the first stop instead of turning left and going home she turned right to for the Hopkins Bed and Breakfast.

  Charlie would know what to do.

  Chapter Two

  Charlene “Charlie” Hopkins owned the best bed and breakfast in town. It was also the only one and hung onto the edge of town. The country atmosphere gave the place a homey feel, and Charlie worked hard to foster that with bits of old west debris that she made herself. The wagon wheel missing a spoke, the old hand plough, the buckboard—all manufactured by Charlie. Lucy had helped him make most of his antiques.

  The place had a few regulars—hunters who came in elk and deer season. The farm attached to the house needed new fences, but Charlie managed to get a crop or two of alfalfa every year. The place had been in the Hopkins family for four generations, but Charlie was the last Hopkins in the county. She’d been Lucy’s best friend since Lucy was eight and had tried to run away from home and had make it as far as the Hopkins. Charlie had talked Lucy into going home again, after feeding her venison stew and apple pie. Ever since then Charlie’s place had been Lucy’s refuge.

  Pulling into the driveway of the large house, Lucy’s shoulders eased down. She climbed out of the truck and gave a wave to Jackson who was sweeping off the porch. “Hey, Jackson.”

  The boy—another runaway, one Charlie hadn’t been able to bring herself to send home—looked up. Tall and lanky, he carried himself with stoop as if he wanted to make himself smaller. The bruises he’d shown up with—and the broken arm—had healed. His parents hadn’t come looking for him, and Charlie was home schooling him now so he could get his GED this year.

  He offered a nod. Jackson never smiled much and Lucy had no idea if Jackson was his first name or his last. “Hey, Ms. Lucy. Ms. Charlie’s out back.” He gave another polite nod and went back to sweeping.

  Lucy headed around the massive house with its clapboard sides and its wide, wrap-around porch. Charlie looked up from the little wooden bench under her favorite elm. She’d been shelling peas from her garden. “Hey there, girl. Thought you had to work tonight?” Lucy sat down and took up a pea to shell. Charlie’s wide face pulled into a frown. “What happened?”

  Lucy shelled peas and told the story.

  Charlie let out a breath. A heavy-set woman, Charlie wore her salt-and-pepper hair crop
ped short and generally had on Cathcart overalls, boots, and a white button-down shirt—summer or winter. She’d tie a scarf around her neck to dress up for going into town. She shook her head now. “Lucy, child, I know that temper of yours.”

  Tossing the torn off ends of the pea aside, Lucy folded her arms. “I think I broke Sid Noby’s nose.”

  Charlie gave a laugh. “’Bout time someone did.”

  “Yeah, it may be funny now, but you know how bad I needed that job.”

  “You know my stance. You should go to the police about what Martino did to your daddy. He’s bad and needs to be held accountable.”

  Lucy shook her head. “Yeah, we both want fair as fair, but I can’t and you know why. So I just have to find another job and fast.”

  “Come on board here. I’m leasing out the farm to this young fellow. He’s gonna need help. It won’t be easy work but it’ll pay well. He’s already said he’s going to offer top dollar. And it’s slow season for me. You could give up that little apartment and stay here.”

  Lucy bit her lower lip. She hated giving up her independence—she’d worked damn hard for it. But Charlie was right—it was time to be practical. Putting an arm over Charlie’s shoulders, she hugged her. “What would I do without you, Charlie?”

  Charlie patted her hand. “Well, I don’t think you’d perish, but you might come close. Now come and help me with dinner. You’re better in the kitchen than I ever was.”

  Following inside, Lucy helped fix a chicken pot pie. She envied Charlie her garden—and how she could grow almost anything. Greens for salad. Tomatoes, corn, peas, carrots. She didn’t stay for dinner—she had to start packing and give notice. Her rent was due tomorrow, and she didn’t think it’d be easy to get a last check out of Roy.

  Lucy climbed into her truck made her way back to her apartment. She knew Maritino wouldn’t like her leaving so suddenly. He’d want to know why she was leaving the apartment, but as long as she paid him, he wouldn’t do anything. She hoped. He’d once told her he admired her spunk, but she knew he wasn’t a guy you could trust.