I Cross My Heart Read online

  A deal with a devilishly sexy cowboy...

  Self-help guru Bethany Grace has returned home to clean up the now-decrepit family ranch after her father’s death. Rather than just set the whole place ablaze (her first choice), she settles for nice symbolic little blaze outside…until things get out of hand!

  Cowboy Nash Bledsoe is working at the Last Chance Ranch next door when he sees the smoke. Bethany is the last person he expects—or wants—to see. How can he explain that she’s indirectly responsible for ruining his life?

  Still, there’s an opportunity for Nash to buy the ranch if he can help restore it, and the two strike a deal. But there’s a whole lot of chemistry in the fine print, and Nash is about to discover that where there’s smoke, there’s fire!

  Is there anything sexier than a hot cowboy?

  How about 4 of them!

  New York Times bestselling author

  Vicki Lewis Thompson is back in the Blaze lineup

  for 2013, and this year she’s

  offering her readers even more.…

  Sons of Chance

  Chance isn’t just the last name of these

  rugged Wyoming cowboys—it’s their motto, too!

  Saddle up with

  #751 I CROSS MY HEART

  (June)

  #755 WILD AT HEART

  (July)

  #759 THE HEART WON’T LIE

  (August)

  And the first full-length

  Sons of Chance Christmas story

  #775 COWBOYS & ANGELS

  (December)

  Take a chance…on a Chance!

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to another Sons of Chance summer! First up is the cowboy many of you have been asking about, Nash Bledsoe. Nash made an appearance in the epilogue of Feels Like Home, an August 2012 release. Some readers guessed that he’d play a starring role in the next book, and here he is!

  Let me tell you a secret. I belong to a fabulous plotting group that includes Harlequin authors Rhonda Nelson, Kira Sinclair and Andrea Laurence. We meet twice a year to brainstorm. Usually the stories don’t have titles yet, so we assign them a label. This one became known as the “burning recliner book,” and you’ll understand why by the end of the first chapter.

  If I wrote something other than romance, like maybe thrillers or horror, you might get a burning recliner on the cover, because it’s a significant part of the story. But luckily for you, I do write romance, so instead you get a yummy picture of Nash Bledsoe. Much better, huh? I knew you’d think so!

  I Cross My Heart kicks off this year’s installment of the series, and it’ll be followed by Wild at Heart in July. Then The Heart Won’t Lie comes out in August, and—bonus!—Cowboys & Angels will show up in December. Please do join me at the Last Chance Ranch, where the summers are cool, but the cowboys are extremely hot!

  Yours for the summer and beyond,

  Vicki

  Vicki Lewis Thompson

  I Cross My Heart

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  New York Times bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson’s love affair with cowboys started with the Lone Ranger, continued through Maverick and took a turn south of the border with Zorro. She views cowboys as the Western version of knights in shining armor—rugged men who value honor, honesty and hard work. Fortunately for her, she lives in the Arizona desert, where broad-shouldered, lean-hipped cowboys abound. Blessed with such an abundance of inspiration, she only hopes that she can do them justice. Visit her website, www.vickilewisthompson.com.

  Books by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  HARLEQUIN BLAZE

  544—WANTED!*

  550—AMBUSHED!*

  556—CLAIMED!*

  618—SHOULD’VE BEEN A COWBOY*

  624—COWBOY UP*

  630—COWBOYS LIKE US*

  651—MERRY CHRISTMAS, BABY*

  “It’s Christmas, Cowboy!”

  687—LONG ROAD HOME*

  693—LEAD ME HOME*

  699—FEELS LIKE HOME*

  *Sons of Chance

  To get the inside scoop on Harlequin Blaze and its talented writers, be sure to check out blazeauthors.com.

  Other titles by this author available in ebook format. Don’t miss any of our special offers. Write to us at the following address for information on our newest releases.

  Harlequin Reader Service

  U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

  To Edward Knabusch and Edwin Shoemaker, who invented the first wooden recliner in 1928 and made an upholstered version dubbed the La-Z-Boy in 1929. This story wouldn’t be the same

  without that invention, so thanks, guys!

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Excerpt

  Prologue

  June 18, 1982, Last Chance Ranch

  From the Diary of Eleanor Chance

  A BABY APPEARED ON OUR doorstep today. Not literally, but as good as. Nicholas Jonathan O’Leary, five months old, arrived in a taxi with his own personal lawyer as a temporary nanny.

  Apparently fourteen months ago, my son, Jonathan, conceived this child with that flighty Nicole O’Leary, one of the women he attached himself to during what I call his yee-haw phase. She was only in town for a couple of months, and after she left, Jonathan didn’t hear from her. Until this baby showed up.

  According to the lawyer, Nicole had wanted Nicholas’s existence to be kept secret while she was alive, but she’d arranged for him to be brought here in the event of her death. Good thing she made those provisions, considering she’d taken up skydiving! Who does that kind of thing when they have an infant to care for? I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but, honestly! She had Shinola for brains, if you ask me.

  Jonathan, of course, is shocked by her death and the baby he’d had no clue about. He also feels guilty for having unprotected sex with her. But Archie and I don’t really blame him. He wasn’t himself after his no-good wife, Diana, left him and their toddler, Jack, two years ago. Archie and I made sure that Jack was cared for during those months when Jonathan battled a sense of failure by painting the town.

  Then, thank the good Lord, he met Sarah, and they had the loveliest Christmas wedding this past December. Sarah is everything Jonathan’s ex-wife was not. She’s a nurturing and loving presence in our lives and little Jack finally has a mother.

  We’ve all been anticipating the birth of Jack’s baby brother, Gabriel, due in four months, and now...well, Sarah says Jack will have two little brothers, Nick and Gabe. That tells you what my new daughter-in-law is made of. The angels smiled on us when she agreed to marry our son.

  So, before you know it, Archie and I will have three grandchildren! Archie is over the moon about that. Jonathan will inherit the Last Chance Ranch when we’re gone, and the odds are good that one of those boys will take over from Jonathan someday. Maybe they’ll even shar
e ownership. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  Archie feels very sentimental about keeping the ranch in the family. Today, in the midst of the hullabaloo about Nicholas arriving, Archie coined a name for Jonathan’s boys, each with a different mother. He calls them the Sons of Chance. I think that’s sweet.

  1

  Present Day

  WHEN IT CAME TO MENTAL health, Nash Bledsoe vastly preferred shoveling shit to lying on a therapist’s couch. His newly minted ex-wife, Lindsay, felt differently and had told him numerous times he needed a shrink. But his final divorce papers had arrived from Sacramento late yesterday afternoon, and Lindsay no longer had any say-so about how he dealt with his emotions.

  Now that they were officially divorced, he’d never again have to hear Lindsay quote her favorite self-help guru, Bethany Grace: Happiness Is a Choice. He shuddered. God, how he’d come to hate that phrase.

  Well, damn it, today he chose to be mad as hell. And mucking out stalls was both productive and therapeutic. He wouldn’t deny that he had plenty of issues, but fortunately the Last Chance barn had plenty of stalls.

  “Better slow down before you hurt yourself, son.”

  Nash glanced up in midshovel. Emmett Sterling, the Last Chance’s foreman, leaned in the doorway of the stall and chewed absently on a piece of straw. The guy looked more like a veteran cowboy than anyone Nash knew. Although he was past sixty, he had the lean body of a man much younger. His graying mustache gave him an Old West look that suited him.

  “The exercise feels good,” Nash said.

  “I expect it does. Heard about the divorce papers arriving.”

  “Yep. I’m officially a free man.” He didn’t pretend to be surprised that Emmett knew. His mail was delivered to the bunkhouse, and his buddy Luke Griffin had been there when he’d opened the thick envelope.

  Luke had worked at the Sacramento riding stables owned by Nash and Lindsay, but he’d lost his taste for the job when Nash had left. So Nash had put in a good word for him here at the Last Chance and Luke had hired on a couple months after Nash had. Last night Luke had joined him in polishing off a bottle of Wild Turkey, and several of the other hands had produced some twelve-packs and turned it into a party.

  The divorce papers hadn’t been a surprise. Lindsay had filed almost a year ago, and Nash had spent some time and money trying to get a fair shake. Turned out to have been a waste, and seeing the settlement spelled out in black and white had brought back all his suppressed rage. He tossed the shovelful of manure into the wheelbarrow and went back for more.

  “I remember being as angry as you are right now. It’ll pass,” Emmett said.

  Nash dumped more manure into the wheelbarrow. “Especially if I keep shoveling.” He’d forgotten that Emmett’s wife had divorced him twenty-some years ago. Now Emmett was seeing Pam Mulholland, who owned a bed-and-breakfast on the main road into town.

  Pam was part of the Chance family through her late sister, Nicole O’Leary, mother of Nick Chance. A wealthy divorcée with no children, Pam had moved to the Jackson Hole area to be near her nephew. And she’d soon fallen head over heels for Emmett Sterling.

  But Emmett was dragging his feet about marrying her because she was loaded and Emmett was not. Nash could relate. Lindsay’s money had been a ticking time bomb—one he’d foolishly deemed unimportant when he’d asked her to share his life.

  “I hate to interfere with your plan to work until you drop,” Emmett said, “but one of the hands spotted a column of smoke over at the Triple G. I need someone to check it out, and I’m afraid you’re nominated.”

  “Glad to.” Nash was grateful to have a job and was committed to doing anything the foreman asked of him. He laid the shovel across the load in the wheelbarrow. “Just leave me some stalls to muck out, okay?”

  “That can be arranged.”

  Emmett and Nash walked out of the barn, their booted feet making hollow sounds on the wooden floor. “It’s bad enough that Hank Grace had to drink himself to death,” Emmett said. “I hate to think of someone trespassing and starting a fire because nobody’s around to stop them.”

  “Nobody’s there?”

  “Far as I know. Hank sold off the animals months ago. From what I heard, he abandoned the place and checked himself into a hospital in Jackson. Died there a week ago. Don’t know what’s supposed to happen with the property.”

  Nash had been gone long enough that his memory was cloudy when it came to some of the residents of this area. “Wasn’t there a daughter?” He vaguely remembered that she’d been several years behind him in school.

  “Yeah, but she turned into a city girl and wasn’t around much. I doubt she’s the one lighting a fire over there. Doesn’t fit. Could be kids having a campout, but it’s still trespassing, and I never like seeing unexplained smoke. Untended fires can spread.” Emmett handed Nash a set of keys. “Take the Ford F-150. There’s a fire extinguisher behind the seat. I’d rather not bring the sheriff into it if we don’t have to, but you have your cell phone, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Call the law or the fire department if you can’t handle it, but I’m hoping it’s nothing too drastic.”

  “Probably isn’t. School’s out. Stuff happens.”

  “That’s my thought. Thanks, Nash.”

  “You’re welcome. See you soon.” Nash tugged his hat a little lower over his eyes to block the glare of the bright June sunshine. He could see the smoke rising about five miles away.

  Maybe this break would help rid his mind of depressing thoughts. He’d failed to create a happy marriage, and he wasn’t used to failure. But at least his family and friends hadn’t witnessed the debacle firsthand. He’d grown up in Jackson Hole, but he’d spent the past ten years in Sacramento, nine of them married to Lindsay.

  He should have known when she’d asked him to sign a prenup nine years ago that no matter how hard he worked, he would never have been considered an equal partner in that riding stable. Her parents had constantly reminded him that they’d bankrolled the business and bought Nash and Lindsay a home, to boot.

  Lindsay had never called them on that, either, and his relationship with her had started unraveling after the first year. Good thing his old friend Jack Chance had given him a job last fall. Nash had literally come out of the marriage with nothing but his truck, which needed a valve job.

  He’d put that off because he seldom drove anywhere on personal business and he had use of the ranch vehicles when Emmett needed something done, like now. Food and lodging were part of the job. That allowed Nash to invest most of his salary, and thanks to a good financial adviser in Jackson, his savings were growing nicely. Eventually he’d have enough for a down payment on his own place.

  The tan ranch truck was parked near the two-story main house. As he walked the short distance, he rolled his shoulders to ease the tension that had settled the moment he’d opened the envelope from Sacramento. He hated to think his life was spiraling downward, but sometimes it felt that way, especially when he compared his situation to Jack Chance’s.

  Jack was technically his boss, although he would never pull rank. They’d been friends since high school, where they’d been in the same graduating class and had played on the same football team. But now their situations were totally different.

  Jack’s dad had died several years ago in a rollover, leaving his three sons and his wife as joint owners of this valuable operation. The Last Chance bred paints and trained them as cutting horses. As the oldest son, Jack ran the daily operation in partnership with his mother, Sarah. Middle brother Nick was a vet with his own practice, but he made sure all the animals on the ranch stayed healthy. Gabe was the competitor who rode the Last Chance horses and showcased the ones offered for sale.

  Sarah and her fiancé, Pete Beckett, lived in the main house, but each of the sons had staked out a parcel of
ranch land and had built homes for themselves and their wives. No doubt about it—the Chance brothers had been blessed with good fortune. Nash didn’t begrudge them any of it, but he longed for that kind of financial and emotional stability.

  He was working to build up a nest egg now, but finding the right person to love would have to come later. He wasn’t about to hook up with a woman until he had resources. He’d learned his lesson on that score. He’d already made one big mistake, and he wasn’t planning to make another.

  Climbing into the dusty ranch truck, he started the engine and backed the vehicle around. The long and tortuous dirt road that connected the ranch to a paved two-lane highway was always a challenge, but at least today it was dry. Jack’s dad had deliberately left the road unpaved to discourage trespassers, and his sons had decided to honor that tradition.

  A little bit of grading wouldn’t hurt, though, Nash thought as the truck bounced over the hardened ruts. The ranch had a tractor and a blade, but apparently using it on the road would be considered sacrilegious. Nash wondered how often Jack had to replace the shocks in his trucks because of these ruts.

  After a bone-jolting drive, Nash reached the two upright poles and massive crossbeam that marked the entrance to the Last Chance. To the left, about ten miles away, was the little town of Shoshone. It supplied many of the basics, like food, gas and a great bar, the Spirits and Spurs, owned by Jack’s wife, Josie. But for anything fancy, people had to drive nearly an hour into the city of Jackson.

  Nash took a right toward the Triple G, a much smaller spread than the Last Chance. As Nash recalled, the Graces had kept to themselves—not a common thing around here, but it happened. Not all country folk were social.

  Grace. He’d likely always cringe when he heard that last name now. His marriage had probably been doomed from the first day, since Lindsay’s wealthy parents had never approved of him. But when Lindsay had started reading those motivational books by Bethany Grace, the game had changed dramatically. She’d used Bethany Grace’s mantra, Happiness Is a Choice, as a response to every fight they’d had.