Roped by The Cowboy: Iron H Ranch 2, page 1
Roped by The Cowboy by Dee Ellis
© 2024 by Dee Ellis. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.
Cover Design: Matilda Martel
Interior Formatting: Dee Ellis
Publisher: Hummingbird Press
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Hi Reader!
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Thank You for Reading!
Iron H Ranch Series
About Dee Ellis
Chapter One
Jacob
Warm sunrises over sloping hills is the best start to the day.
Sitting astride my horse Snickerdoodle, I take some time to drink it in. To admire the beauty of the sprawling hills and valleys that make up Iron Hills. Being out here in nature with the clusters of thick trees, the blowing wild grasses, the darker slopes that make up the mountains of Iron Hills is where I feel most at peace.
Coming to work at the Iron H Ranch was the best decision I ever made. I had grown up on farms, though I had never stayed at one long enough to call it home. After my parents died when I was a kid, I bounced around foster care until I took off West. We had a farm and that is where I belonged, so I went in search of one to call home.
It took some looking and some time. I've been a hand at half a dozen farms. Horse farms, pig farms, cattle farms, even ranches that catered to rich folk looking to play cowboys for a day or two. Now that I have settled at Iron H Ranch, I feel at home at last. Ironic because although it is a working ranch, their hot ticket is now their annual auction.
“Come on girl,” I coo at Snickerdoodle, giving her a pat between her ears. “Let’s head back. Time to get the day going.”
After the short but stunning ride back to the ranch, I get the horse situated and brushed down. I will take her out again later but duties call. I have been here almost a year, but I am still low man on the totem pole. That means I do whatever grunt work Cody tells me to. Starting with feeding all the hungry hands that will be flooding the main house soon.
“Morning Sullivan,” I greet the house cook with a smile as I take my Stetson off.
“There he is. About damn time, fool.” His greeting is as grizzled as ever.
I am not late. It is just past five am and the hands wander in about six am. This ranch houses, handles, and trains horses as well as selling stud services from prize winning horses. There is always a horse to train, a fence to mend, or a tour to give to little wannabe cowboys or cowgirls. Still, it is a laid-back ranch with a close-knit group of workers that work as a family.
“Right on time, old timer,” I shoot back as I join him at the big kitchen island to start working on biscuits.
“How’s that horse holding up, son?” He wonders as he mixes gravy and grills sausages. Turning over flapjacks on the countertop stove, I smile.
“Doing good. Loves her morning rides. Not sure when we can use her for tours, she gets a bit anxious still when I saddle her.”
“Poor ol’ girl. If I got my hands on those bastards,” he grumbles as he fills trays with the food for the guys.
Filling another tray with pancakes and the biscuits, I nod in agreement. We got her and a few others off a rundown ranch on the outskirts of town. Cody got word that the ranch had been abandoned, including the livestock. Didn’t have much room to board them but he didn’t hesitate for a moment.
They’ve let me work with the horses since we brought them to Iron H. It’s been pretty rewarding seeing them come back to life. From the start, I bonded with Snickerdoodle the most, so she’s become my filly. Taking care of her is my priority while Cody decides what role best suits me.
“You and me both, old boy,” I agree wholeheartedly. “Wylder said he saw one of the guys at the bar last weekend. Pretty sure he high tailed it out of there once he saw Wylder.”
Chuckling at the idea of Wylder scaring another cowboy out of a bar, I snatch up a piece of sausage. Sullivan curses me, smacking my hand with a spatula. I laugh and grab another, darting away from him. He is too slow to keep up with me. But I am glad he’s letting me cook alongside him, he might be gruff, but he’s welcomed me as part of the team here.
“Knock it off boy,” he chastises me even as he grins big. “Leave some for the hands that work,” he taunts, and I pretend to be offended.
“Watch it old man,” I snark, shoving a biscuit in my mouth in one bite. “I pull my weight around here before those boys even get out of bed.”
It’s not untrue. Before I sat watching the sunset, I fed the horses in the main stables, started the irrigation system on the paddocks, and corralled some of the goats that had gotten loose. The ride with Snickerdoodle was out to the North acre so to check on some fences due to be mended.
With all my years bouncing around to different farms, I have picked up a lot of trades. Still, I am not a skilled horse trainer, I have no experience with the stud services we offer, and so I have been kind of the go-to guy for everything in between. Not that I mind—I am paid well, fed even better, and have a roof over my head. That’s more than I’ve had most of my life.
“Morning folks,” Cody calls as he bounds into the kitchen, boots thudding on the hard wood. “Man, this spread looks good. As usual. Thanks for everything you do here, guys.”
Narrowing my gaze at him, I stuff another sausage in my mouth. He is up to something. Sure, he’s been happy as a lark since hooking up with his old lady, but this is different. He, much like half the roughnecks working as hands here, has a grumpier demeaner most days.
“What do I have to do?” I sigh as I fall into a seat.
“What makes you think you have to do something?”
“Because you’re being nice. Nicer, at least. That always means I have to do something. Wash all the trucks. Muck out the stalls. Something the rest of the hands are too good for.” I surprise us both with the bitterness in my voice. I step back, bowing my head because that was over the top.
“No, no none of that. Matter of fact, I am up to something with you.” Cody crosses the kitchen, boots loud on the tile. I stand my ground because while I respect him, I am not a pushover for anyone. Tilting his head, he gives me a once over, noting how my hands ball up. “Calm down, we’ve got nothing to fight over, son. Well now, let me tell you what I have in mind before I say that.”
“What’re you going on about?”
“Remember the auction we had last year? We’re doing it again, seeing as it did so well for the ranch. For all of us. With half of my men wifed up or on their way there…we need some fresh meat, Jacob.”
“Whoa…what? You want to…to..” I shake my head at the very idea.
“I intend to sell you to the highest bidder.”
Staring at my boss, a man I respect, who I honestly look up to, I shake my head again. Not because I am against the idea. Far from it. Last year they held an auction to raise some much-needed funds for the ranch. A bonus for several of the men: they found themselves a woman.
“No shit. I mean, you want me to be part of the auction, Cody?”
“Sure do, Jacob. I think with that pretty face and that farm boy charm, you will bring a pretty penny. Some of which you will get, some will go to the ranch, the rest to our charities. I never forced it on the men. Won’t force it on you. It is up to you and no answer is wrong, Jacob.”
Nodding, I sit at the island as the other men start flooding in. Right away they start talking about the auction. I listen to them talk, to the things they have to say about the money raised last year, about how fun it was to have the buyers on the ranch for a night or two.
Cody said the choice is up to me, and I believe he would accept me declining. Truth is, I want to participate. I have heard stories since I started it just weeks after the auctions last year. Cody found his old lady through the auction. Wylder too, found a city girl who found her cowgirl spirit.
Could I find my own cowgirl?
Once I have cleared breakfast away, I take a walk out to the stables. I am still deep in thought about the prospect. Most of my life I have been on my own. No lasting friendships because I never stayed in one place long. If I had any relatives left, they never cared to find me, so I never cared either.
Iron H Ranch feels like home to me. Is it a forever home? Is this where I will stay until I am as old and onery as Sullivan? Or could there be something more out there for me? Another life in another place or one right here with someone. I think I might try finding out.
“Cody,” I begin tentatively after I step inside his office. “I wanted to say that…yeah, yeah I think I would want to be part of the auction.”
Looking up from his work, he grins, tossing a pen on his desk as he sits back in his chair. “Do you? I meant what I said--you can say no. You take the shit, sometimes literally, ‘round here without a lick of attitude. You work hard. Earn your keep. This is not some final test, Jacob, you’ve passed them all. Iron H Ranch is as much your home as it is the rest of us.”
That seals it for me if I had doubts before he spoke. “Yes, sir, I want to do it. Besides, the boys all said it was a good time for a good cause.”
Grin widening as he tips his head at me, he nods. “Boy howdy, some of us had a damn fine time. Got my wife from that auction. Looking to do the same, Jacob?”
“Reckon I might be, Cody. Just might be.”
Chapter Two
Jillian
Being a divorcee before thirty is not as bad as it sounds.
Sitting alone in the big, beautiful, Victorian house we were making a home is sad, sure. Seeing the den empty of his things, the half-finished kitchen we were having such fun restoring, it hurts. Hearing the silence is what almost does me in. Because once this fixer-upper of ours was full of laughter, of lovemaking, of a life well lived.
Now it is just silent. Not a single sound reverberates in the house.
Sipping at my third glass of wine, I close the wedding album I spent the last half hour torturing myself with. I poured over the photos, the mementos, all of it in search of something. I am not sure what. Answers to what went wrong, a clue to how I wound up where I am now.
Still, there is no one to blame for where we ended up. No lies or abuse, no betrayal or wrongdoing got us here. We got married because we were best friends, we loved one another, we had the best time together. Both of us wanted to build together, to start a family, to get the good life we all want.
One day we will get it—we just won’t get it together.
“I understand,” my words from the saddest day of my life play back in my head. It did not sound like me. It did not feel like me. “We just…I guess we don’t have what it takes to make it work. To go the distance.”
“Jill, sweetheart, I love you. I love our little girl. I just don’t…I don’t think we’re in love. All the things we wanted changed. The travel agency is great for you. I am just not good at it. I do not want this old house anymore. I am not sure I ever did. I always wanted you. I always wanted Jocie. I love you both more than anything, but I guess…. not more than myself since I am asking for this. I hate that I am sitting here asking this.”
Five years was as far as we got together. Eighteen hundred days. Seven vacations all over the world. Five of the best days: the day we met, the day we first made love, the day he proposed, our wedding day, and the day we had our little girl. Dozens of the best days together, the best memories.
Three of the worst days. A lovely Saturday when we admitted there was love there just no spark or fire. Him moving out as we both cried. The day we signed the papers to end what we had hoped to be a lifetime together. We still loved each other, we were still best friends, good parents, it just...our romance had run its course.
Five months is a long time to grieve a relationship that was never bad. One hundred-fifty-two days of adjusting to life without my other half. Of our daughter sharing time between us. Hugs goodbye that sometimes turn to tentative kisses before we laugh awkwardly. My husband is the best man, the best parent, he is just not the man for me anymore and I am accepting it.
“Jillian you will come through the other side of this in one piece. Come here to Iron H for a while. Come be with me and Wylder. Bring that little girl with you, she would love it here.”
Wynn’s call last night got me thinking about what comes next for me. Jocie has adjusted to weekends with her father. These weekends have been good for me to be a bit shamelessly selfish. I am doing well with the travel agency even with it becoming a solo effort. To be honest, my best friend was my best customer. Travel was her life before she roped herself a hot cowboy on a dude ranch last year.
Thinking about the auction that got her there, I laugh out loud. I pushed her to do it because she wanted a new adventure. It sounded like a good time. Hot cowboys on a dude ranch, horses, the sprawling Iron Hills. What more could you ask for of an adventure?
“Holy buckets. That is just what I need,” I call out, reaching for my laptop, shoving the wine aside. “I need an adventure. Get out on the dusty trails, girlfriend,” I pep-talk myself as I pull up the site for Iron H Ranch.
Seeing the announcement for a new round of auctions, I let out another laugh. Yes, this is going to be a good time. I need that. Need to shake off the sadness of being unable to make my dream life work. Seeing the display of men, and a few women, up for auction for a day, I get down to business.
They host these auctions to raise funds for the ranch as well as some charities. It promises you a day on the dude ranch, with a hand at your disposal. There is no entice of a romantic day or a promise of something untoward. Just a day with a rugged rancher on a sprawling ranch.
“Sounds divine to me,” I continue the conversation with myself.
Clicking through the photos of those up on the auction block, I take the time to read through their about me sections. I am not making the choice lightly. I want to spend a fun day with a good guy and not think about the failure of my one try at romance. Not that I am seeking a new romance. It would just be nice to be with someone instead of being so alone.
If he wants to rope me in for a kiss or ride me into the sunset, so be it.
“Dean Winters, oh, he’s handsome. Possible, very possible. Boone. Love the name. Definitely looks the part of a rugged rancher. Rory. Do all the men at this ranch belong on a cowboy of the month calendar? Hello hotness, whew,” I tease loudly, clicking through the options with another sip of wine. Even if I do not have the guts to do this, looking through hot guys I could buy a day with is fun in itself.
Stopping on one of the last options, I swallow my wine with a gasp. Closing the laptop with a click, I set it aside. Taking a moment to gather myself, I can’t fight the smile on my face. I rub my thighs together, my silky bottoms rubbing against the most delicious places. This is...new. Heat unfurls inside of me as I open the laptop, clicking on the photo that stunned me.
Jacob Walters. Staring back at me from a photo set before a beautiful sunset, he is quite the sight. Square jaw with piercing blue eyes as light as cornflower, he is beautiful. A dark dusting of stubble at that strong jaw, a dimple in one cheek as he flashes a crooked smile almost makes me swoon.
Twenty-two years old, a new hand on the ranch, he is looking forward to showing someone the place he calls home. His bio is short, sweet, succinct. I cannot explain why I can’t catch my breath as I stare at this photo. Until it hits me. It has been so long since I’ve felt turned on this way. Not just the five months since the divorce settled. Longer.
Sitting here turned on for the first time in forever, it seems almost as if he is watching me. That smile on his full lips, that mischievous glimmer in his icy eyes, it makes me hotter than I have ever felt. I enjoy the idea of his eyes on me, of him seeing how turned on I am from a single glance at him.
“Was it cowboys for me all along?” I mutter aloud in awe.
Four glasses of wine in, sitting alone in my former dream home, I think it is cowboys. This cowboy. Heat pulses through me, heart pumping, until I give in. Sitting back on my bed I tug down my silky shorts. Before I even slide my hand between my thighs, I moan. I am so wet my fingers slide through my folds as I spread myself open.
Lying there with that cowboy eyeing me, I let myself play for a while. I don’t rush to get there. No, I get to know the little flower again. I rub at the slick folds, humming as pleasure rockets to my clit. My other hand slips beneath my top and I grab my breast, whimpering as my palm brushes against my sensitive nipple.
“Oh,” I cry out as my fingers pass over my swollen bud. Staring at the handsome cowboy, I start to rub. Slowly, small circles, just letting it feel good. The wet sounds of me playing with myself is loud in the quiet. I grow brazen, slipping two fingers inside myself. “Yes, oh.... yes.”
