Caught by the Cowboy Read online

  Ana Lewin

  Caught by the Cowboy

  Honeydew Ranch Book 1

  First published by Reber Media Company 2020

  Copyright © 2020 by Ana Lewin

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  This book contains sexual content and is intended for readers 18+.

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  Contents

  Join the newsletter

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Also by Ana Lewin

  Support the author

  Join the newsletter

  Want updates from Ana? Join her newsletter for information on all new releases, including book 2 in the Honeydew Ranch series.

  Chapter 1

  Olivia

  “I’ll never understand why you decided it was a good idea to leave New York City for hick town Tennessee,” Maeve’s voice was squeaky over the straining speakers of the 1998 Chevy.

  Olivia ran a hand through her curly red hair, pushing it back behind her ear as she tried to keep her focus on the vast stretch of highway in front of her. She was on the home stretch of her 11-hour drive, only an hour or so outside of Pelmsemet, Tennessee. “The town is called Pelmsemet, not hick town,” she corrected her friend for the thousandth time, suddenly regretting giving the voice command to pick up the call. “And have you seriously never thought of leaving New York City? They don’t call it a concrete jungle for nothing. I want to have nature on my doorstep for once.”

  “Liv, that’s what we have Central Park for.”

  Rolling her eyes, she flicked her blinker on and changed lanes, passing a semi-truck and cursing when a rock hit her windshield. “I don’t think Central Park compares to living on a ranch. Have you ever even seen a cow in person before? They don’t have those at Central Park.”

  A snort came over the speakers, slightly distorted. “Yes they do. There’s a cow at the Central Park Zoo.”

  She didn’t have anything to say to that, but Maeve was quick to break the silence, launching into a long and multi-faceted story about how her parents had tried yet again to set her up with an investment banker. That was one of the many things she envied about Maeve; she had the guts to stand up to her parents, who were equally as high class and snobby as hers. Olivia had never been able to get more than a single complaint past her lips, and she was quickly shut down by the iron fist of her father. She counted herself lucky that her ex had broken up with her, though it had taken her a long time to realize that she wasn’t actually sad about the breakup. Her emotions were much more based on the fact that she’d disappointed her parents by driving away the business major they’d set her up with when she was seventeen. If Steven hadn’t ended it, she might have ended up marrying him to appease her parents.

  “When is the last time you went on a date?” she tuned back into Maeve’s voice when she noticed a question being directed at her. “You haven’t talked about any men since Steven.”

  “I haven’t been on a date since Steven,” she said, knowing that Maeve already knew the answer. Her friend was just trying to get her to talk about it. “My parents hadn’t found anyone else suitable to set me up with and I’m not interested in dating.”

  Olivia was fairly certain she heard a sigh come over the speakers, but it might have been the wind whipping around the truck as she drove. “If you’re going to be away from your parents and living in the middle of nowhere, you’ve at least got to try a few free samples. I’ve heard that small-town guys can get pretty wild.”

  “You know that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to do some actual farm work and learn how to ride a horse so that I can finally convince my parents to let me go to school for agricultural science.”

  Agricultural science had been Olivia’s dream since she was fifteen and had realized that there was more they could be doing to optimize farming and food production in America. Unfortunately, the whole idea had been far too ‘green energy save the world’ for her parents, and not nearly enough ‘making $100,000+ a year and living the high life’. They’d refused to pay for her schooling unless she picked a major that had a higher earning potential. So now she was nineteen, not even started on a degree, and had been working for minimum wage at a cafe since she graduated high school. Even living with her parents and not paying rent, the dream of paying for her schooling seemed further and further out of reach with each passing month. This was her last-ditch attempt to convince her parents that she really was serious about pursuing this as a career, and really would like it. And, if she was being completely honest with herself, it was a prime opportunity to finally escape from under the watchful eyes of David and Marianna Montgomery, King and Queen of perfection and public image.

  There was a heavy pause as if Maeve was debating her next words carefully. “Maybe they’ll finally see the light,” she said, but her tone was weighed down with doubt that she was trying not to show.

  Her heart sank in her chest, but she knew Maeve’s doubt was warranted. Their parents were two sides of the same coin — that was how they’d met in the first place and grown close despite her being a full two years younger than her best friend. They’d been dressed to the nines at a charity gala when they were no more than pre-teens, posed as perfect dolls beside their parents to create the ideal family image. “I hope so,” she said quietly, catching sight of a sign on the side of the road that proclaimed Pelmsemet was coming up in thirty miles. Only about half an hour left to go.

  “You’ve got to call me every couple of days. That way I can coach you through picking up the hot guys that you meet,” there was a teasing tone back in her voice that dispersed the awkwardness hanging in the air.

  “If there are any hot guys worth picking up, I don’t think I need any coaching.”

  “Sure, Liv. Please take a video of your first attempt at picking up a man so I can see how it goes.”

  Just like that, they were back to joking around about men and Maeve’s varied love life, the light banter keeping her distracted until she saw the sign on the side of the road proclaiming her arrival on the small strip of Highway 321 that was Pelmsemet, Tennessee.

  ***

  When she pulled into the long driveway that led to the main house on Honeydew Ranch, she was suddenly glad that Maeve had graced her with a pep talk before hanging up the phone. Her heart was pounding against her chest and her breath was coming quickly as she took in the farm sprawling out in front of her. Fields stretche
d nearly as far as she could see, dissolving into treed areas separated only by a faint wooden fence. Black and brown cows were spread through most of the farther fields, a small barn housing the ones who wanted to get away from the incessant beating of the sun. The fields closer to the house had horses roaming them, given free access to and from the larger red barn that stood stark against the green horizon.

  She could spot a few men milling about by the barn, but it was noon on a Tuesday and to her understanding this ranch thrived primarily on evening and weekend riding lessons. It wasn’t surprising that the modest parking lot was all but empty. When she pulled into a parking spot she sucked in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she breathed in and out. She tried to practice some of the calming methods she saw the internet endorsing, even though she’d never tried before. Anxiety reared its ugly head but she reminded herself that she’d double-checked with the owner prior to leaving New York City two days ago. Grant Dewit was expecting her today.

  A knock sounded on her window while she still had her eyes closed and she jumped, letting out a squeak that her mother would have immediately criticized as unseemly. Cheeks flushed, she looked over at the offending sound and froze, counting to ten in her head as she tried to stop herself from slamming the truck into gear and backing right out down the driveway and onto the road.

  The man standing beside her truck was nothing short of god-like. Stubble lined his jaw and a shaggy head of brown hair was covered by a stereotypical brown cowboy hat, the kind she’d only ever seen in movies and at Halloween. He was built like a tank, arms corded with muscle from a life of working outside, skin tanned underneath the hair on his arms. The short-sleeve plaid button-up he was wearing looked too light for the cool March weather, but he didn’t seem bothered by the temperature. A pair of well-worn ripped jeans hugged his thighs in a way that highlighted just how muscular they also were underneath the hardy fabric.

  As she stared he looked back at her and cocked an eyebrow, pulling her out of her reverence. Hastily she pushed open the heavy truck door, hopping down onto the gravel and brushing her hands down her jeans before holding out a hand to shake. “Are you Grant Dewit? I’m Olivia Montgomery,” she was proud that her voice didn’t shake, and neither did her hand as she waited for him to take it.

  Regret surged through her when he took her hand in his, the rough palm against hers sending tingles of arousal throughout her body. Something about him rubbed her in all the right places, even as a closer inspection revealed a maturity in his features that indicated he was over thirty years old. “That’s me. Grant. Good to meet you, Olivia.”

  His voice was gruff and low, caressing her ears and leaving her trembling at the way he spoke her name. It was a struggle to keep her blatant arousal off her face, but she managed, suddenly thankful for the years of training from her parents. They never wanted her to show her emotions, especially not the negative ones. After all, what kind of impact would that have on their family image? “It’s so nice to meet you too. I’m excited to be here.”

  From the way he was looking at her with that cocked eyebrow, she could tell that her tone was too formal for small-town Tennessee, but she couldn’t help it. Formality was her coping mechanism when faced with situations she didn’t know how to handle. And she certainly had no idea how to handle her unexpected attraction to her older new boss. His hand released hers and she pulled hers back, tucking it into the back pocket of her jeans. Without the physical touch, she was able to further pull herself together, enough to offer him a genuine smile. “Is there somewhere else you have employees and volunteers park?” she asked.

  Grant shrugged, his gaze scanning her truck and her along with it. “We have another parking lot, but we’re not all that busy right now. I’ll give you the tour first, and you can move the truck later.”

  “Sounds great!” her voice pitched higher than normal.

  Taking the opportunity to stop looking at him, she turned around and leaned over the driver’s seat, grabbing her purse and small duffel of clothing from the passenger side. She hadn’t brought much, not knowing how much room she would have for her things. Besides, most of her clothing was designer, purchased by her parents to maintain appearances. She’d had a feeling that would just make her look like a diva here, even if she didn’t personally care about getting stains on her $300 designer jeans or finding a tear in a $250 silk top. Thrift shops had been her friend in the last few weeks in New York, though she’d had to hide her purchases from her parents in fear of them tossing the clothing straight into the trash. Today she’d chosen the simplest of the thrift store finds - a pair of worn blue jeans and a basic green tank top, with a hoodie to ward off the chill. The only hints of her affluent background were the unmarked Blundstone’s on her feet and her pink Gucci handbag. With any luck, the kind of men who worked on a ranch in Tennessee wouldn’t be the kind able to recognize that the bag retailed for about $1000.

  Popping the duffel strap on one shoulder and her purse strap on the other, she turned around with a smile and locked up her truck. Grant’s hands reached out to take the duffel from her, but she shrugged him off. “I’m fine to carry it on my own, it’s not all that heavy.”

  She didn’t want the staff to immediately write her off as some weak, prissy princess. Coming here was a chance to show the world and herself that she didn’t need help and that she could handle everything that was thrown at her. If she didn’t believe in herself, how were her parents going to believe her when she said she wanted to go to school for agricultural science? Grant threw her a smirk that made her weak in the knees, but she caught a hint of surprise in his expression. He’d been expecting her to be prissy, apparently. “This way, then. I’ll show you to your room in the house. You’re our only volunteer right now, so it’s only the staff living here. We have someone set to come in June, but until then you’ll have the volunteer area to yourself.”

  Olivia couldn’t help but wonder if being the only volunteer meant that she would have more work on her hands, but she quickly pushed aside the thought. This was a business; they took on volunteers to give them experience, they didn’t heavily rely on them to keep ranch operations running. Her boots crunched on the gravel pathway that led up to the front door, which was adorned with a metal sign directing visitors toward the barn. When they stepped inside, it was suddenly clear how large the house was.

  From the outside it had looked large, sure. A tall and wide three-story with a colonial design painted a pale green with a homely white front deck. But as soon as you set foot in the entryway, it was obvious that there was more to the house than the outside hinted at. In front of them a stairway led up to the second floor, and underneath it was another set of stairs, leading down to a basement that she hadn’t realized the house possessed. The ceilings were high and white walls helped light even the entryway, which only had frosted glass windows framing the front door. “You can put your shoes there,” Grant said, gesturing to a closet to their right as he kicked off his boots onto a tall shoe rack beside the stairs.

  Everything was impeccably clean, not a speck of dust on the dark wood stairs or anywhere she could see, aside from on the straw brown mat in the entryway. As she followed him up the stairs she took stock of the pictures on the wall. Most featured horses alongside an attractive cast of men, including Grant himself. Near the top of the staircase, there were images of an older couple in a field of brown cows, gazing at each other with love clear in their eyes. The last picture, right when they reached the second floor, was of the same couple at least twenty years prior, the woman wearing a wedding dress and beaming while her new husband clearly couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

  Knowing better than to ask about the subjects of the photographs, Olivia tore her gaze away just in time for Grant to turn back to her and gesture in front of them. To their right was a large living room, filled with well-worn couches and chairs, a huge TV sitting against one wall, and a table in one corner with enough room for six. “This is the main living area and
the floor where the bedrooms for the volunteers are. I hate to admit that you get the short end of the stick when it comes to living arrangements, but you do. It’ll be hard to go to sleep before the staff unless you’re dead tired or willing to sleep with earplugs.”

  She had to wonder if that meant that they would be up until all hours of the night. Maybe she would end up having to make a trip into town for some earplugs. “Your bathroom is straight ahead there. Only you and our other volunteer will be using it to shower, but it is used pretty frequently since we hang out in this area. On the left are the volunteer rooms. They’re both around the same size, but you can pick whichever one you’d prefer,” Grant continued as if he were giving a museum tour, his professional tone helping to calm her nerves.

  Unfortunately, that same professional tone was doing nothing to calm her libido. The more professional he got with her, the more her body craved for him to boss her around. He had her squirming, and he didn’t even know it.

  Her gaze strayed to his ass as he walked in front of her towards the bedrooms and she shook herself. The man was likely married or otherwise involved, and she was nothing more than a much younger, clueless volunteer. Being creepy was only going to get her caught and embarrassed on the very first day of her six-month stint here. Instead of Grant, she focused on looking at the rooms when he opened both doors. While they were just as similar as he’d said, her choice was made instantaneously. One room had a view of the front yard and the road. The other overlooked the fields and had more sunlight, making the pale green on the walls pop.

  Setting her bag down on the bed, she looked out the tall arched windows at the horizon, admiring it until Grant came up behind her. “I prefer this room too,” he said, standing close enough that she could feel the heat from his body. “Better lighting.”