The Cowboy's Secret Wish

Myles has a secret. One he hopes Karen won't discover...

Librarian Karen Hartley is not looking for a cowboy.

And she’s most definitely not looking for a jock. So when ranch-owning, football-coaching Myles Wylder enters the scene with his inquisitive blue eyes and impossibly broad shoulders, as well as an offer to help save the town library, of course she says no. Just like she does when her heart begins to whisper that maybe there’s more to this cowboy than meets the eye…

Too bad he doesn’t check off any of the boxes on her future Mr. Right list.

…but maybe it’s time for a new list…

Myles knows he’s not what Karen’s looking for in a partner. But with plans to save the Sweetheart Creek library he figures he can show her there’s more to life—and him—than what’s on her checklist. There’s only one problem, he has a secret that might become a deal breaker.

Will this cowboy find a way to win and keep the librarian? Or will his secret ruin everything as opposites attract in this small town sweet romance?

Karen Hartley found her gaze drawn toward Myles Wylder as he twirled Daisy-Mae Ray on the dance floor, spinning her out in a swift, sharp move.

Myles pulled Daisy-Mae back in again, and she tumbled against his broad chest, beaming up at him. Karen turned away in disgust. The woman was so obvious. Didn’t that bother him?

Karen tried to focus on something else in the barn, but found herself catching sight of a small cluster of women she often noticed at the Torpedoes football games. They were smiling at Myles from the edge of the dance floor, sending him little waves whenever he glanced their way. Just like when he was coaching, he was polite, giving a tip of his hat, a nod, a smile, or a quiet hello. Watching him be fawned over always left Karen feeling drab, plain and about as sexy as a cardboard box.

Unable to help herself, she peeked again at Daisy-Mae, who was currently pressed tight to Myles’s body as they moved across the floor. What would it feel like to have a strong man hold you with such assurance, his large hand cupping yours? The warmth of his palm on your waist? The promise of his virility and passion on a level where there was no thinking, no contemplating, just acting on instinct?

“Karen? Hello?” Jackie Moorhouse was waving a hand in front of Karen’s face. She was wearing a sympathetic, yet understanding smile. “Sorry to say it, honey, but you’re the furthest thing from his type.”

Karen snapped into focus, dropping her hold on the antique gold chain she was wearing. “Whose type?”

“I saw you visually undressing Myles Wylder.”

Oh no. Now she was imagining what that would be like. All that muscle and bare skin. So unlike her past boyfriends, whose only overdeveloped parts tended to be their brains. And why, whenever she was around Myles, did she have to remind herself she was looking for brains, not brawn?

“You have a thing for him in a blazer?” Jackie asked.

“Was he at a funeral?” Karen hurt at the thought of him being in pain.

“I don’t think so.”

Her gaze drifted toward the broad-shouldered man once again. When he wore his typical jersey, jeans and plain brown cowboy boots she thought he was sexy, that casual, confident air about him always catching her attention. But tonight in those black boots, dark wash jeans that fitted as though the designer had had him in mind… The thin sweater that hugged his pecs before clinging to his tight abdomen, and the blazer over top, which made him look as though he was…

Words failed her. Not even a thesaurus could help her tonight, because there were no adjectives in the English language for a man who looked as delectably perfect as he did. Sexy didn’t even begin to cover it. With that black hat he looked like every fantasy, the kind of guy who could shake your world with one hot, smoldering look.

She shook her head, clearing away the unexpected haze of lust that had come over her.

“He looks very handsome tonight,” Karen said primly, smoothing her white blouse against her ribs. “He is also everything I am not looking for in a man.” She gave Jackie a serious glance over the tops of her glasses. She felt her cheeks heating up, but didn’t quite understand why. The men she dated were PhD candidates, book nerds, and the type that listened to NPR and discussed current issues at length over espressos. She wanted a man who challenged her and her assumptions, who preferred to use his brain, not his fists. She wanted someone who was constantly learning and growing, curious about the world—not looking to settle down with the first pretty thing to happen along. And even more, she wanted one who didn’t wrestle with other adult men as if he was still on the football field.
Myles Wylder was a cowboy, ex-football-player, and coach who was currently allowing Miss Sweet Hills County to stroke her fingers over his chest.

Karen turned away in disgust. Why did she keep watching them?

“I caught him looking at you earlier,” Jackie whispered.

A ripple of chills ran down Karen’s spine. She breathed out slowly, saying calmly, “Probably because he saw me staring at him, trying to figure out what was different about him tonight.”

“And?”

“He got a haircut.”

Jackie laughed. “A haircut? He is the sexiest cowboy in the entire barn. He has women drooling over him, he’s wearing something completely out of character, and you notice his hair?”

Her friend shook her head with a knowing smile that made Karen want to hide for the rest of the night.

“It’s not as shaggy around his collar."

“You have it bad, sweetheart. Bad. But I get it. If Myles asked me to spend the night with him, I wouldn’t say no.”

That thought sobered her up. She’d known since her first day in town almost eight years ago that the Wylders were off-limits. Jackie Moorhouse wanted a Wylder, and she would get one. Karen valued Jackie’s friendship way more than some ill-thought-out anything with Man-Candy Myles.