Healing the Cowboy’s Heart
When Cory Stone discovers the father he never met is gravely ill, he brings the ornery man to his Montana ranch, along with his round-the-clock nurse. Once again Cory finds himself falling for the wrong woman—a city slicker, like the ex-fiancée who broke his heart. But in Eloise LeBlanc, Cory also finds a kindred spirit. The caring beauty knows firsthand about love and loss. Neither of them is looking for a new romance, and Cory certainly isn’t searching for love. But can the independent city girl heal the heart of a broken cowboy?
“That’s the last time I ride a horse.”
Eloise wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks with her palms.
Cory led the horses toward the barn door and Eloise beelined toward the fence.
He could hear the guffaws of the ranch hands already—if he chose to tell the story, that was. They loved a good city slicker story. He wouldn’t tell it, though. He knew that already. She might not be much of a cowgirl, but she didn’t deserve to be mocked.
Don’t fall for her, he chided himself. As she walked away, her fiery curls whipping in the wind, he led the horses into the barn.
“Lexie,” he murmured to his horse. “You should have known better than to gallop with her.” But it wasn’t the horse’s fault, nor Eloise’s. It was his, for having expected something that he never should have hoped for.
Why was he doing this to himself? He had to stop this—whatever it was between them.
But right now nothing short of divine intervention would make him stop falling for her.
PATRICIA JOHNS
willfully became a starving artist after she finished her BA in English literature. It was all right, because she was single, attractive and had a family to back her up “just in case.” She lived in a tiny room in the downtown core of a city, worked sundry part-time jobs to keep herself fed and wrote the first novel she would have published.
That was over ten years ago, and in the meantime, she’s had another ten novels published, and her dedication to the written word hasn’t diminished.
She’s married, has a young son and a small bird named Frankie. She couldn’t be happier.
The Rancher’s City Girl
Patricia Johns
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
—Psalms 73:26
To my husband, John,
who is my inspiration for all my heroes. I love you!
Contents
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Questions for Discussion
A knock on the front door echoed through the small house. Eloise Leblanc glanced quickly toward her patient. Robert Bessler lay on crisp, clean sheets, his papery eyelids closed in sleep. A fan oscillating in the corner shifted his white hair against his forehead, but he didn’t stir.
Eloise pushed herself up from the chair next to his bed and stepped into the hall, angling her steps toward the front door. She paused at the door, tucking a fiery curl back into the loose bun at the base of her neck, then stood on her tiptoes to peek through the peephole. A tall man looked down, his face obscured by a cowboy hat.
Eloise paused for a moment and sucked a deep breath.
This is it.
She opened the door and the man lifted his gaze to meet hers in frank evaluation. He pulled off his hat and held it across his chest. His hair hung in dark, disheveled waves across his forehead and his piercing dark eyes sparkled. A dusting of stubble softened his chiseled features, and he smiled hesitantly.
“Hi,” he said. “Is this the home of Robert Bessler?”
“It is.”
“You must be Eloise. We spoke on the phone.”
“Of course. Cory?”
He nodded and she stepped back, allowing him entrance. “Your father is sleeping right now. Would you like to have a seat and wait for a few minutes?”
“Thank you.”
Eloise performed a veiled inspection as Cory Stone stepped past her and into the small entryway. She’d only moved to the town of Haggerston six months earlier for the job with Mr. Bessler. She’d grown up in Billings, the largest city in Montana, and while she was well acquainted with cowboys—what Montana girl wasn’t?—she still felt a sense of admiration when she saw the real thing. He loomed head and shoulders taller than she was, and his cowboy boots clunked solidly against the hardwood floor. A hint of musk lingered near, and despite his wide shoulders and obvious strength, he moved with ease.
“Please sit down.” Eloise gestured into the sitting room, and the big man dwarfed the sofa as he sank into its depths.
“How