The Cowboy's Claim Read online

  He’s discovered his leading lady

  The role of her dreams: in his arms.

  Chloe Daniels is determined to land the role of a lifetime. Even if she’s terrified to get on a horse! And the last thing her reluctant teacher, Tristan Tillbridge, wants is to entertain a pampered actress. But the enigmatic cowboy soon discovers that Chloe is as genuine as she is gorgeous, and he’s determined to make her his. Will this unlikely pair discover that the sparks between them are anything but an act?

  Chloe opened the door to her rental that was parked two empty spaces over from Tristan’s.

  His hat sat on the front passenger seat. She reached over and picked it up, and when she stood straight, she glanced over her shoulder.

  Tristan was walking toward her.

  Her heart sped up as the last of the cars drove away.

  They were alone.

  As he stood in front of Chloe, he gave her one of his small, sexy smiles. “Is that for me, Ace?”

  His gaze dropped to the ball cap clutched in her hand then rose back up to her eyes.

  Give him the hat and endure two more weeks of wanting his kisses and dreaming about his caresses. Or be with him in every way that she desired for the short time they had left. Those were her options.

  Chloe took his Stetson off his head and put it on hers. Then she kissed him.

  * * *

  TILLBRIDGE STABLES:

  These ranchers are roping horses—and hearts!

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for choosing The Cowboy’s Claim as your new romance read.

  I never dreamed that I would write a book about a cowboy and an actress meeting at a horse boarding stable in Maryland. It came about when I shared with a few people that I had a collection of bull-rider trading cards. Several conversations later over glasses of wine, Chloe Daniels and Tristan Tillbridge falling in love at his family-owned business, Tillbridge Horse Stable & Guesthouse, bloomed into this story.

  Tristan was cut out of his father’s will and is working hard to get back what should have been his inheritance. It’s an uphill battle. The last thing he wants cluttering up his schedule is “babysitting” a pampered actress...especially since she’s scared of horses. Chloe may be afraid of horses, but she’s not afraid of hard work or standing up to the sexy former bull rider. Writing about these two finding their way to each other made me laugh, cry and smile.

  Like many of us, Tristan and Chloe are both striving toward what is important to them. Ambition will take them in opposite directions. But as the saying goes, “the heart wants what the heart wants.” Sometimes allowing our hearts to take the lead can bring us to wonderful people and places. Do you agree?

  I’d love to hear from you. Visit www.ninacrespo.com and say hello. While you’re there, sign up for my newsletter and follow me on social media. Instagram and Facebook are two of my favorite places to share information about my books and upcoming appearances. I look forward to seeing you there.

  Nina

  The Cowboy’s Claim

  Nina Crespo

  Nina Crespo lives in Florida, where she indulges in her favorite passions—the beach, a good glass of wine, date night with her own real-life hero and dancing. Her lifelong addiction to romance began in her teens while on a “borrowing spree” in her older sister’s bedroom, where she discovered her first romance novel. Let Nina’s sensual contemporary stories feed your own addiction for love, romance and happily-ever-after. Visit her at ninacrespo.com.

  Books by Nina Crespo

  Harlequin Special Edition

  Tillbridge Stables

  The Cowboy’s Claim

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

  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

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Excerpt from The Texan’s Baby Bombshell by Allison Leigh

  Chapter One

  It was perfect riding weather at Tillbridge Horse Stable. All Tristan Tillbridge needed was a horse and some time to enjoy the morning. He had plenty of horses, but based on the number of what-the-hells ganging up for his attention, enjoyment wasn’t on his schedule anytime soon.

  He dropped his black-booted foot from the bottom rail of the white ladder fence circling the small arena where a blond horse trainer exercised Moonlight Joy, a golden creamy-maned palomino. “So you were driving the back road last night and found the south pasture gate wide-open?”

  “Yeah.” Mace Calderone stood beside him. His brown deputy’s hat cast a shadow over his bronze face. “The winds from the rainstorm could have caused it.”

  “Or someone left it that way.” Tristan stripped off his tan Rough Rider work gloves, flipped up the shirttail of his navy pullover and stuffed the gloves in his back jeans pocket. “The staff knows the ‘close every gate’ rule, but everyone else can’t read a damn sign. Since the guesthouse and cottages opened on the property six months ago, stopping them from breaking, trampling or opening things they shouldn’t is becoming a full-time job.”

  Next to the one he already had as stable manager.

  “I hear you. These days it seems like rules are considered more of a suggestion than a requirement.” Mace glanced over his shoulder. “Looks like you got a stray.”

  On the wide dirt and gravel path leading from the stable farther behind them, a woman with long dark curly hair wearing oversize aviator sunglasses talked animatedly on her cell.

  As she threw up her hand in frustration over something the person on the line told her, the front of her cropped yellow blazer opened wider revealing a snowy-white, fitted top. Matching skinny jeans molded to her long legs. Each step forward brought her and her red high-heeled boots—designer, no doubt—closer to fresh horse shit.

  Mace turned to watch. “Five bucks she saves the shoes.”

  “Ten, she doesn’t.”

  She swerved right and Mace grinned. “Instead of cash, you can pay me with a beer this weekend.”

  “That’s fine, but I won’t be the one buying.”

  The woman veered left, still talking on her phone and digging into her large red purse.

  Mace’s smile disappeared. “She really isn’t paying attention.”

  “Told you.” But not even the sure win of a bet could let Tristan stand by and watch what would probably be the worst part of her day unfold.

  He and Mace called out at the same time. “Hey! Look out!”

  But too absorbed in her conversation, she traipsed ahead...right into the steaming fresh pile. As she skidded forward, the phone flew out of her
hand and after a few long breath-holding seconds of teetering on her heels, she finally caught her balance.

  Mace winced. “That could have been ugly. I’ll make sure she’s okay. Unless you’re interested. She’s cute.”

  Sunglasses pushed up on her head, the woman bent down and retrieved her cell. As she stood straight, she alternated between shaking the dirtied boot on her foot and glancing at the bottom of it with a grossed-out expression.

  Interested in a woman who wore high heels to a stable, and from a distance, faintly resembled his deceased father’s spoiled, devious second wife? Yeah, he’d pass. “I have a meeting in a few minutes. She’s all yours.”

  The two-way radio clipped to Mace’s tactical belt crackled to life. “Calling all units in the southeast. Multiple reports of traffic backing up on Colton Road at the interstate exit. Motorists need assistance.”

  He clicked a button on his shoulder mic. “Dispatch. Unit seven in route.” Mace looked to Tristan. “You’ll have to help her out.”

  “I’m not the one wearing the badge. Rescuing people is your job.”

  “I would, but duty calls. You can tell me her name later.” Mace clapped him on the back, then strode to his patrol car parked in the grass on the other side of the ring.

  Tristan headed to the woman. Why couldn’t people just obey the multiple signs on the paved trail from the guesthouse that stated: No visitors allowed at the stable until 10:00 a.m. on Mondays.

  “I can’t believe this.” The woman glanced up at Tristan while gingerly scraping the sole of her boot on the ground. “Is this stuff literally everywhere—even in the main areas?”

  Yards behind her, two grooms wearing blue short-sleeved pullovers and jeans rode horses with black manes and mahogany coats at a steady trot.

  “Move out of the way.” Tristan picked up the pace and closed the distance.

  “You don’t have to ye—” She did a double take at the oncoming horses and froze. Annoyance quickly faded from her eyes along with the color from her smooth brown cheeks.

  He grabbed hold of her arm and ushered her to the side of the path. As the bays went past, she turned toward him and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Her barely detectable tremors vibrated into him. Was she afraid of the horses? On a reflex, he lightly grasped her arms and put himself between her and the bays. The sweet lemon fragrance wafting from her skin was like a welcome cool breeze. It roused memories of lazy summer afternoons, lying in his hammock in the shade with a cold drink in his hand, lost in the perfection of nothing on his mind. He hadn’t enjoyed an afternoon like that in a long time.

  “Thanks.” Her soft exhale rushed over his throat spreading goose bumps over him. She tilted up her head and her long lashes rose.

  His heart tripped. Mace had gotten it only partially right. She was more than just cute.

  Caught between wanting to gently sweep back the curls partially concealing her deep coppery eyes and staring at her lush full lips that were meant for long, slow, kisses, he remained suspended in the moment. Her loosening her death grip from his forearm prompted him to let her go.

  The pop song ringtone blaring from her cell snapped his priorities back in place.

  It didn’t matter that she was pretty and smelled like his all-time favorite flavor. She didn’t belong there if she was afraid of horses. Had she startled one of the bays, she or the riders could have been hurt. If she wanted to play Monday morning phone tag, she needed to do it someplace else.

  Just as she went to answer her cell phone he intervened. “This isn’t the place for you to talk on your phone. You have to stay alert, especially around the horses. In fact, you shouldn’t be here.” Tristan pointed to the paved trail intersecting the path. “Like the signs back there said, guests aren’t allowed at the stable at this time of the morning.”

  “I am alert.” A healthy glow returned to her face. “And I’m exactly where I should be. I’m meeting the person in charge of the stable at nine o’clock.”

  “About?”

  “That’s between me and them.”

  “I’m the stable manager, and you’re not on my schedule.”

  “That’s because we’re not meeting.” She gave him a “take that” smile.

  Stubborn and a belief that rules didn’t apply to her. Maybe she actually was a version of his father’s second wife.

  She was obviously in the wrong place. It was time to hand her over to the one person who could clear up exactly where she belonged. His cousin, Zurie. But one thing was certain. She wasn’t on Zurie’s schedule either. He was meeting with her that morning to talk about his expansion plan for the stable and to touch base about their staff appreciation get-together that was happening in a few weeks. She was squeezing the time in to talk with him before she headed to the airport to fly to Nevada for a conference.

  Just as he went to call Zurie, he spotted his petite cousin farther up the path walking briskly toward them. Her straight black hair, gathered in a ponytail, swung behind her. She was dressed similarly to him in jeans and black work boots, but she wore a crisp blue Tillbridge Stable logoed button-down instead.

  He looked to the woman. “Sure you don’t want to change your story about why you’re here?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  He almost felt sorry for her. Zurie had less patience for rule breakers and trespassers than he did. “It’s your head.”

  She slid the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. “My head is staying right where it belongs.”

  Chapter Two

  Chloe sent her agent, Lena, a brief text apologizing for the sudden hang up, and not answering her call back. As she dropped her phone in her purse, she met the guy’s direct stare.

  With his close-cut dark hair, compelling hazel-brown eyes, and the near perfect angles of his light brown face, he had GQ potential written all over him, even with his irritated expression.

  He crossed his arms over his chest, and muscles formed underneath the stable’s logo—a white horse and T with a lasso around it—embroidered on the left side of his shirt.

  A minute ago, she’d been tempted to soothe her embarrassment over almost planting her butt in the dirt by snuggling closer to all of that tall, hot-man goodness. Until he’d accused her of trespassing. He thought she was ruining his day? If he only knew about the crap she’d been dealing with before literally stepping in it.

  Her morning had actually started out great. She’d had an early breakfast with two actors in DC who were going to use her one-bedroom apartment just outside of Los Angeles as an Airbnb for a month while she was in Maryland.

  Their enthusiasm for acting along with their encouragement about her own career had reignited her optimism that had started to wane because of a few bad breaks. But once she’d left them, her morning had gone downhill fast.

  The two-hour drive to just outside of the town of Bolan had taken longer than anticipated. After several wrong turns, due to the not so helpful map app on her phone, she’d finally figured out where to go and pulled into the parking lot of Tillbridge Horse Stable and Guesthouse. Then, her agent, Lena, had called with news. It had thrown her so completely, she’d forgotten to change out of her favorite boots into more practical shoes before trekking to the stable.

  Don’t take it personally. The executives at Drippy Dry have decided to go a different way... That’s what Lena had said when she’d informed her the company had fired her from their commercial campaign.

  It had finally happened. At twenty-eight, her career had hit an all-time low. She couldn’t even keep an acting part in a commercial selling glow-in-the-dark zombie-printed paper towels.

  Gnawing defeat pierced through frustration and plummeted deep inside of her. Almost nine months had passed since she’d won a substantial role or been contacted about a script, the equivalent of a decade for an actor. Sporadic walk-on television roles and commercials didn�
��t pay as much as a part in a film or a steady television series. Some months, she struggled to pay the bills.

  That’s why she had to erase any doubts Holland Ainsley, currently the hottest movie producer and director on the planet, might have about choosing her for a role in her upcoming futuristic Western film. The original actress Holland and the other producers had chosen had bowed out. They were actively searching for someone else, but issues with another film Holland was working on demanded her attention, and she refused to be distracted from it so auditions had been delayed. The good news was, it gave Chloe more time to prepare.

  Lena sending her to a place in “Small Town, Maryland” to research life at a horse stable was a plot twist for her. She’d expected her to suggest spending time at a ranch or a horse farm in the Southwest, but if shadowing the manager of the stable for the next six weeks would help her to get that part—no, the part that would jump-start her career—nothing, including Mr. Grumpy-But-Hot, would stop her. She’d soak up everything about Tillbridge, the landscape, the people...even the horses.

  As she glanced at the horses she’d encountered on the path, now in the arena, a smaller version of the anxiety that had gripped her earlier expanded inside of her chest. She was eleven the last time she’d been around a horse. They were just as big as she remembered them to be when she’d made the mistake of trying to ride one.

  When the spooked horse had bolted down the trail that morning at summer camp, years ago, she’d gone from a brave, boasting volunteer to a frightened mess, and broken her arm.

  A ghost of the remembered pain sent tingles through her right elbow.

  People will feel sorry for you now because you got hurt, but all they’ll remember in the future is how you fell off. That’s why you have to learn everything there is to know first about whatever you plan to do before joining in. And make sure you’re the best at it or don’t do it at all.

  That had been her father’s take on the situation when she’d gotten home. That advice, as harsh as it had been, had kept her out of trouble. She’d never shown up unprepared for anything, big or small, but this time, “just fake it” would have to become her new motto. At least she wasn’t expected to actually get on a horse for her audition. From what Lena had said, the role in the film may not even require getting on one at all. She just needed to learn about stable life and become comfortable with it...or at least act like she was.