The cowboy next door, p.1
The Cowboy Next Door, page 1
Peekaboo. I see you.
Clint stared at the words. What the hell? What did that mean?
With a bit of unease, he unlocked his front door and stepped inside. He walked into the living room and was surprised that Lizzy wasn’t there on the sofa. Maybe she’d decided to crawl into his bed to sleep, he thought.
He walked down the hallway to his bedroom, but Lizzy wasn’t there, either. A bit of anxiety swept through him. She had to be here somewhere. Her truck was still outside. He peeked into Emily’s room and terror gripped his heart, his very soul. Emily wasn’t there. Her bed was empty.
What in the hell was going on? “Lizzy,” he yelled. He waited, but there was no response. “Lizzy,” he shouted even louder. Where were they? Where could they be? Dear God, what was happening?
His text alert went off again. He yanked the phone out of his pocket.
Welcome to your nightmare.
Dear Reader,
Through the years, my husband and I have had some great neighbors. They’ve been barbecue buddies and good friends. When we would eventually get new ones, I remember watching as their things were unloaded from a moving van and wondering if we’d become friends, as well.
Living in the country, neighbors are particularly important. They not only offer friendship but also first aid, help and other things needed in an emergency.
When Lizzy Maxwell gets a new neighbor, she’s vaguely curious about him. She’s unaware of how much Clint Kincaid and his little girl, Emily, are going to change her life.
I hope you enjoy this one and keep reading!
Carla Cassidy
THE COWBOY
NEXT DOOR
Carla Cassidy
A New York Times bestselling author, Carla Cassidy loves danger...but only when it comes in the pages of a book. She’s been a professional cheerleader, a singer and a dancer, but the best job she’s ever had is writing books for readers to enjoy. She’s had over 150 books published and has enough ideas for new books to keep her busy for years to come.
Books by Carla Cassidy
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
The Scarecrow Murders
Killer in the Heartland
Guarding a Forbidden Love
The Cowboy Next Door
Colton 911: Chicago
Colton 911: Guardian in the Storm
Cowboys of Holiday Ranch
Sheltered by the Cowboy
Guardian Cowboy
Cowboy Defender
Cowboy’s Vow to Protect
The Cowboy’s Targeted Bride
The Last Cowboy Standing
Colton 911
Colton 911: Target in Jeopardy
Visit the Author Profile page at
Harlequin.com for more titles.
Contents
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
Excerpt from Protecting Colton’s Secret Daughters by Lisa Childs
Excerpt from Deadly Vegas Escapade by Anna J. Stewart
Chapter 1
Lizzy Maxwell stepped outside into the intense heat of the last day of August. She turned on her heels and closed the stable doors. All the horses now had newly mucked stalls waiting for them and Lizzy’s stomach told her it was near dinnertime. Another quiet, lonely meal for one.
At thirty-three years old, she’d expected to be married by now, but she’d spent two years nursing her ill father and after he passed, she’d realized in those two years a lot of the available men in town had married and started families of their own.
She headed toward the ranch house where she’d lived all her life. Thankfully her father had left her not only the house but also all the land that allowed her to keep a profitable field of corn, another of wheat, and a herd of cattle and a couple of horses. There was also a huge garden that grew all kinds of vegetables that she enjoyed eating throughout the summer.
A dust devil kicked up in the pasture in the distance, whirling for a moment and then disappearing. They were occasional sights in the summer heat here in the middle of the country. Lately she felt like one of those dust demons, whirling and twirling and somehow getting nowhere.
She had just reached her back door when she heard the sound of a horse. She turned and saw her new neighbor riding down the fence line that divided the two properties.
He was tall in the saddle with broad shoulders and long legs. It was impossible to tell his hair color as she’d only seen him when he wore a black cowboy hat.
He didn’t really look like an experienced horseback rider to her. Even from this distance, he looked stiff and uncomfortable. He’d moved in two months before and she had yet to officially meet him.
All she knew was that his name was Clint Kincaid, he was divorced and had a five-year-old daughter. She’d heard that from Mildred Hunter who worked at the post office. There had been no real gossip about him. From what little Mildred said, he pretty much stayed to himself and hadn’t spent much of any time in town since moving in.
Of course, Millsville, Kansas, didn’t have a lot to offer in the way of entertainment unless you wanted to hang out at one of the two bars in town. There was no movie theatre or fancy restaurants; however there were the usual amenities of a small town. The café was a great place to eat and recently a beautiful gazebo had been built in the town square. It boasted lots of benches where people could sit and visit.
Lizzy loved it here, where the air was clean and she could ride across her pastures whenever she wanted or throw a fishing pole into her large pond, where the catfish were almost always biting.
The crunch of tires on gravel turned her in the opposite direction. A smile curved her lips as she saw the familiar red Mustang convertible driving up her driveway.
Bailey Troy, the owner of the car, was a force of nature. She owned the Sassy Nails Salon, a place where women went not only to get manicures and pedicures but also to drink a glass of champagne and gossip. She had also been Lizzy’s best friend since their early high school days.
Her short, spiked blond hair sparkled in the sunshine and her gold-rimmed sunglasses threatened to swallow up her petite, gamin features.
She pulled up and parked and then got out of the car and grinned at Lizzy. “Want to head to the café for an early dinner?” Bailey asked. She pulled her sunglasses off and dropped them into her oversize blingy, pink purse, exposing her bright blue eyes.
Lizzy shook her head. “Instead of going to the café, why don’t you come into Chez Lizzy’s and have an early dinner here with me instead?”
“What’s on the menu?” Bailey asked.
“Crock-Pot chicken stuff,” Lizzy replied. “The company is good, the meal is free and should be pleasantly edible.”
“Sold,” Bailey said. Together the two women headed for the front door. Just before walking in, Lizzy cast a quick gaze at her neighbor’s place, but she saw no sign of him anymore.
“Have you met him yet?” Bailey asked as they walked through the living room and into the bright, airy kitchen.
“Who?” Lizzy asked. She went directly onto the screened-in back porch and kicked off her boots, then she padded back into the kitchen.
“The new guy...your neighbor.” Bailey sat at the wooden table and then dropped her purse on the floor next to her.
“Not officially, although I’ve seen him out and about on his place. Why?” She washed her hands and then got a couple of plates out of the cabinet.
“I saw him in town yesterday. He was going into the feed store. He’s definitely a hottie.”
Lizzy set the plates on the table and then added silverware. “I heard he’s divorced, so he’s free for you to go after.”
“No thanks. He’s definitely not my type. Can I do anything to help?”
“No, just sit and relax, I’ve got it. So, why is he not your type?” Lizzy continued to set the table with a salad she’d made earlier in the day, the chicken and veggies from the Crock-Pot and iced tea to drink.
“First of all, he’s got a kid and you know that I’m not ready to be a mommy or step-mommy anytime soon. Secondly, he has dark hair and I’ve always been partial to blond guys.”
“You mean blonds like Officer Benjamin Cooper?” Lizzy asked as she finally sat at the table across from her friend. She laughed as Bailey’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.
“You’ve got to admit it, Benjamin Cooper is one fine-looking man.” Bailey scooped some of the chicken onto her plate.
“Bailey, you’ve had a crush on him forever. What I don’t understand is why you haven’t made a move on him yet? You know you aren’t getting any younger.”
“Thanks for reminding me of that,” Bailey said dryly. “Every time I get close to him my stomach clenches and the back of my throat closes up. Besides, I think he’s seeing Celeste Winthrop right now, and if she’s the type of woman he likes, then he’s definitely not the right man for me.”
Celeste Winthrop was a divorcée who was hungry for another husband. She was a pretty woman on the outside, but inside she was known to be arrogant and condescending to other women.
For the next hour they ate and gossiped about various people in town. “I think Laura Dean is going to leave her husband,” Bailey said.
“Really? I always thought she was happy with Ralph,” Lizzy replied. “They always seem happy together when I see them out and about.”
“I guess nobody really knows what goes on behind closed doors.” Bailey’s eyes darkened. “Just think, somebody is behind one right now, plotting another scarecrow murder.”
A whisper of a chill slithered up Lizzy’s back. “I don’t even like to think about it.”
“Lizzy, we have to think about it. We’re both blondes with blue eyes...just like the last two women he killed. We’re his type. I worry about you because you live out here all alone.”
“And I worry about you because you live and work in town. He would see you way more than he would see me since I don’t go into town too often.” Lizzy fought against another chill.
There was a serial killer at work in the small Kansas town of Millsville. He’d been dubbed the Scarecrow Killer because he dressed up his victims like human scarecrows. He sewed their mouths shut with thick black thread, dressed them in jeans, a plaid shirt and a straw hat and then trussed them up on a pole like a true scarecrow. It was all very creepy, but the creepiest thing of all was that he took his victims’ eyes.
The police chief had tried to keep that particular thing under wraps, but somebody had leaked the information and it had since made the rounds through gossip, terrifying every young woman.
The first victim had been Cindy Perry, a pleasant young woman who had worked as a waitress at the café. She’d been found in a farmer’s cornfield. The second victim had been Sandy Blackstone, who had been a teller at the bank. Her body had been found in the backyard of the Sweet Tooth Bakery. Both had possessed blond hair and blue eyes.
There was now a new tension in the air... It was the apprehension of everyone waiting for another victim to show up. So far, the chief of police, Dallas Calloway, had no clues and no suspects in the case.
“Let’s change the subject, otherwise I’m going to have a bad case of indigestion,” Bailey said. She reached across the table and grabbed Lizzy’s hand in hers. “When are you going to come into the shop and get your nails done by me?”
Lizzy pulled her hand away and laughed. “First of all, your nail art scares me to death. Secondly, it’s impractical for me to wear fancy nails around the ranch.”
“So, be impractical for once in your life, Lizzy Maxwell. I promise I won’t paint a space alien or cornstalks on them. What you should do is let me paint them a bright red, and you pull on that red swirl skirt you have and you take some of your bright red cupcakes to your neighbor.”
Lizzy laughed once again. “And why would I want to do something like that?”
“Because you’re ready for a husband and he’s a new guy in town and you never know if he’s the one for you or not,” Bailey replied. “Besides, since you’re on the city council, it would be the neighborly thing for you to do.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me of the city council. Right now, I’m enemy number one with all the other members.”
“Why is that?” Bailey asked curiously.
“It’s budget time and I swear the other members have lost their ever-loving minds. They want to pass a huge budget that will make all of our taxes go up and I just don’t believe now is the time to do it. Since our constitution states the budget vote has to be unanimous, all the other members see me as the devil himself right now, because I couldn’t vote yes on the one they wanted.”
Lizzy got up from the table and grabbed their now-empty plates. “All I really want is for some compromises to be made and then I’d be all in.”
“And I need to gather all my strength tonight because my first customer of the day tomorrow is Letta Lee.” Bailey grabbed the dirty silverware and glasses from the table and carried them to the sink.
“Ugh, lucky you. And guess who asked for a ton of money in the town’s budget for the woman’s gardening club,” Lizzy replied.
“Let me guess...the same arrogant, hateful, old witch whose nails I’m painting in the morning,” Bailey said. “By the way, thanks for dinner. That Crock-Pot stuff was the bomb.”
“It’s easy to make. I try to Crock-Pot a meal a couple of times a week. After working hard around here, it’s nice to have the meal ready to eat.”
“For me, it’s way easier to grab a burger or some chicken fingers on the way home from work,” Bailey replied.
“I’m not driving all the way into town to eat chicken fingers after a long day’s work,” Lizzy protested.
With the dishes all cleaned up, the two moved into the living room. “It’s been two years since your daddy passed and you need to start putting yourself out there more,” Bailey said.
“Put myself out there more?” Lizzy looked at her friend in disbelief. “I’m already on the city council and I volunteer at the food bank. I also work this place. What else do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know... Maybe it’s time we both go back to the bar scene. Most of the single guys in town hang out at Murphy’s on the weekends.”
“Yuck, you know how much I absolutely hate the bar scene,” Lizzy replied.
“I know how picky you are when it comes to men,” Bailey said.
“I’m not picky, I just know what I want,” Lizzy said in her own defense.
“You’ll never find him, Lizzy. You’re looking for Mr. Perfect and he just doesn’t exist,” Bailey said.
“Then I’ll be single for the rest of my life.”
“But I know you get lonely,” Bailey said softly. “Who knows? Maybe your Mr. Right, dream man is two-stepping it away right now at Murphy’s.”
“I’m too tired in the evenings to go dancing,” Lizzy said.
“While we’re on that topic, when are you going to hire some help around here? I know your dad didn’t want anyone else working the ranch, but you do realize this place is too big for one person to handle.”
Lizzy released a deep sigh. “I’ll admit it’s been a struggle to keep up with things around here. I know I need to hire a couple of men to help me out, but I just haven’t been in the mood to start the whole interview process.”
“Put an ad in the paper or wherever and once you have things set up, I’ll help you interview the men,” Bailey offered.
“Yeah, right,” Lizzy said with a laugh. “And what do you know about the ranching business?”
“I know the criteria for a ranch hand,” Bailey replied with one of her naughty grins. “To start with, they have to have really broad shoulders and tight butts.”
“Bailey,” Lizzy said with yet another laugh. “You are incorrigible.”
Bailey grinned at her and then stood. “This incorrigible woman is now getting out of here so you can relax for the rest of the evening. Lunch tomorrow?”
“Sure. What time?” Lizzy walked her friend to the front door.
“Noon at the café.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
Lizzy watched as Bailey got into her car and then roared down the driveway. Although she wasn’t big on going into town for lunch, she knew she had to compromise occasionally and couldn’t always expect Bailey to drive out to her place. Before she closed the door completely, she glanced over to the ranch house in the distance.
Maybe it would be a nice thing to do, to bake some cupcakes or cookies and welcome the new neighbors. However, she certainly wasn’t going to get her nails painted a fire-engine red or pull on the flirty red skirt that she’d worn occasionally to Murphy’s Bar.
It would just be a quick visit to introduce herself and welcome him to town and nothing more. If she decided to do it at all.
* * *
“Daddy?” Emily looked up from the piece of paper she’d been drawing and coloring on. “I gotta question. Can I ask you something?”
Clint Kincaid sat next to his five-year-old daughter at the kitchen table. He smiled at her. “Anytime and anywhere, you can always ask me a question. Even if I’m standing on my head, you can ask me a question.”
Emily giggled, which was the exact response he was hoping to get. She then sobered and her bright blue eyes gazed at him seriously. “How come Amy Pearson had two mommies and I don’t have a single one? That doesn’t seem fair to me.”
