Lassoed by Love (The Cowboys of BlueSong Series Book 3) Read online

  Copyright © 2019 by Rose Verde

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Lassoed by Love (Cowboys of BlueSong Series, #3)

  LASSOED BY LOVE | The Cowboys of BlueSong Series | Book 3 | Rose Verde

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  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

  Epilogue

  Lassoed by Love is a work of fiction. All Characters and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any similarities to real people, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

  I’d like to first thank God for giving me the gift of story-telling. Without Him, I can do nothing. Thank you to my husband who encourages me and my kids who are proud of their author mom. Also, a special thanks to Patricia Bell and a couple other great friends who read this book and gave their opinion. Your advice and critiques are greatly appreciated. To my awesome editor, Lisa DeBartolomao, I’m grateful for the work you put in to polish my manuscript!

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  LASSOED BY LOVE

  The Cowboys of BlueSong Series

  Book 3

  Rose Verde

  GET FREE BOOKS

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  Chapter One

  Chrystolle ‘Crissy’ Spencer gulped down her coffee, and her eyes smarted. She didn’t realize the brew was still hot. She set the mug down, grabbed her purse, and stepped out of her apartment. Her phone rang, and she almost missed her step, trying to fish the offending instrument from her bag. This is not the time for it.

  She was already late by a good ten minutes, and her boss was sure to have a fit. She chuckled at the thought. Luckily, Crissy had never been at the receiving end of his ire in the six months she'd been with the company as a professional writer. Though she'd studied journalism, being fresh from school, this was what she got, and it paid the bills.

  The ringing ended and started again before she finally pulled it out of the hole in her bag where the phone always chose to hide away.

  Her cousin Pam’s smiling face showed up on her screen. Crissy swiped the phone and placed it to her ear. “Pam, good morning. Can I call—?

  Pam sniffled.

  “Are you okay?” Crissy asked, frowning.

  “No.” She sniffled again.

  Crissy hurried on her way to Rocky Mountain Magz, her heels beating out a staccato on the sidewalk. “Pam, calm down and talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  The short inhalation came again. “It's Fred.”

  Pam’s husband again. Poor guy. He’d had a rough past two years dealing with leukemia. Crissy’s pulse raced. “Is he all right?”

  “He's stopped responding to treatment.”

  Crissy closed her eyes briefly. Not again, God. “I'm so sorry, dearie.”

  Despite the cool Ontario spring temperature, Crissy’s chiffon blouse was plastered to her back by the time she shouldered her way through the company door and into the large office they called The Pit.

  The huge space was partitioned into small cubicles with white boards. The incessant tapping of keyboards filled the place. She scrunched her nose at the cigar smell still hanging in the air. They operated a no smoking system, at least for the employees. When her boss, Nick, binged on one of his cigars, the smell stayed for the day like an unwanted guest.

  She waved to her friend, Becca, their copy editor, who sat in front of her computer typing, and then stepped into her cubicle.

  By that time, Pam had broken down for real and Crissy ached for her. Fred had been diagnosed with leukemia months after their wedding, four years before. His health had been more important to them than starting a family.

  Crissy set her bag down, phone still to her ear, and turned.

  Nick stared at her, disapproval written all over his face.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Sweetheart, I’ve got to go. My boss is giving me the look. I'll call you back as soon as I can,” she whispered.

  Letting her cousin down when she needed her the most made Crissy's belly turn, but what choice did she have?

  Nick jerked his thumb toward his office and walked away.

  Sighing, Crissy followed after him, her four-inch heels clicking across the floor. Her pencil skirt did nothing to ease her walk. What a day to choose that kind of outfit.

  “Be careful. He woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” Becca whispered.

  Figures. He smoked when he was grumpy. Ignoring the looks of pity from Dana and Jones, who worked in advertising, she stepped into the office.

  “Were you not aware of today's meeting?”

  Crissy’s shoulders slumped for the second time that day, and she had to keep from slapping a hand to her head. “I'm so sorry, sir. I totally forgot.”

  He glanced pointedly at the clock that ticked merrily away behind her. Crissy didn't dare look. She knew by how many minutes she was late. It was unlike her to sleep past her alarm, but she'd been up most of the night trying to get her materials ready for him today. Slave driver that he was, he wouldn't appreciate her saying it was the need to finish up the work that kept her up for the better part of the night.

  “Where's the article you were supposed to get to me?”

  “I'll send it to you right away.”

  She turned to go.

  “I haven't dismissed you.”

  Crissy stopped, hiding another sigh. His black irises stared daggers at her for a moment, his lips drawn in a thin line as though fashioned by pencil on paper. All his handsome looks disappeared when his face took up the look like a baby’s smacked bottom. Crissy almost giggled at the thought. But, if what Becca said was any indication, he'd show her the door. Crissy couldn't afford that.

  “We're going to upscale the company by the end of next month.”

  Crissy frowned. It was on her lips to ask what he meant but as though reading her mind, he said, “Starting two weeks from today, we have to increase our subscribers by fifty percent. Otherwise, I may have to let a couple of you go. That means we need some top-notch feature articles. We’ve been seeing a lot of voracious readers, especially with the western column.”

  “Ok, sir.”

  “I already told the others. Keep your act together; stay on your toes — twenty-four-seven — or you’re out of here! The next two weeks will determine who stays and who goes.”

  He was kidding, right?

  The look in his dark orbs said he was serious. Crissy couldn't help but be grateful that she missed the meeting. Becca would fill her in.

  He relaxed in his seat. “You can leave.”

  She pivoted on her heels. Hopefully, she'd escape before he changed his mind.

  “Get that article to me. Remember, if you come late after
today, you better have a good reason.”

  “Yes, sir.” She placed just a little emphasis on the sir. He was the boss.

  Crissy was just so glad to be out of the office. She couldn't afford to lose her job. Not now that her only help, Pam, had so much going on in her life. Crissy’s father— She applied mental brakes. No use going there.

  As Crissy passed by Becca's desk, her friend mouthed, “We'll talk later,” and went on with her typing.

  After Crissy sent the document to Nick, she started on the next installment. She loved working for RMM. The magazine’s special features provided new challenges each day and helped broaden her horizon on a wide range of subjects. It also ensured they had quite a number of subscribers. Almost a million, as of the previous year. Wasn't it a little crazy to want half a million more subscribers in a month?

  Dropping in her seat, she grabbed her phone and sent a message to Pam. Will call you at lunch break.

  Before she set her phone down, Rob, from the mailroom, came over and sat on the edge of her desk. "How's it going, Crissy?"

  Crissy looked away, trying not to roll her eyes. Becca caught the scene and gave her a thumbs up, then giggled and ducked her head behind her computer screen.

  "Hi, Rob." Crissy did her best to be polite.

  Rob had been trying to date her from the moment she'd got hired on. But Crissy was not interested. The guy was a slimeball and had already hit on half the department staff, before she'd ever been hired on. Becca had given Crissy the heads up on the guy from the moment they spoke. Romance Rob, she called the guy.

  "So, how about lunch?" he asked. "My treat."

  "Sorry, Rob. I can't. Maybe next time?"

  Becca snorted and Crissy gave her a look.

  "Sorry!" Becca mouthed, her eyes filled with amusement.

  "Is something funny?" Rob looked in Becca's direction.

  Becca turned away, still giggling.

  "I don't know what's wrong with her," Crissy said. "The boss has got us all stressed out about his new agenda. We're all a little crazy around here."

  "Yeah, ok, then. Maybe next time." Rob stood, snubbed his nose at Becca and left.

  Crissy blew out a sigh of relief. Dating any man was not on her to-do list. Especially not Romance Rob or after her last fiasco of a relationship.

  By the time twelve rolled around, Crissy’s back and fingers ached, her brain depleted of glucose. Turning her head one way and another to ease the kink in her neck, she rose. “Becca, are you ready?”

  “Give me a sec,” she said without looking.

  Nick was lucky to have this measure of dedication, Crissy thought, looking at others hard at work. Was his statement a veiled threat to her? After all, she was the youngest on the team. Crissy had been the one to submit the article that won the last Pulitzer prize. If Nick didn't get his desire, would he really let her go?

  Becca stepped out of her cubicle. “What's with the face?”

  “A number of things. I need to return a call.”

  As they walked out of the office and headed for the food court, Crissy dialed Pam. “I'm sorry I had to cut the call earlier. I was late, and my boss was already upset.”

  “I hope you didn't get into any trouble?”

  Trust Pam to be concerned about Crissy when the woman had her own troubles to bear. “No, I didn't.” If Crissy thought Nick was threatening her, it wasn't something she wanted Pam to worry about. “How's Fred?”

  “He's ... deflated by the news, but he's hanging in there.”

  “I'm so sorry to hear that he's no longer responding to treatment.” Crissy slipped into a chair at their favorite food court restaurant while Becca went to place their orders. “Did they say why?”

  “The medical terms are nerve wracking.” Pam's voice caught.

  Pam and Fred’s was the kind of love that stood the test of time. The last two years had been crazy. If there was anything like for better, for worse, that was their commitment to each other. Not like the low lying ...

  “I get that,” Crissy said, taking her mind from the direction it wanted to go. It had been a year, and she was done with relationships.

  “Are you still going on vacation soon?”

  “Not likely. My boss came up with some crazy expectations today. I doubt anyone's going anywhere, any time soon. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “I was hoping you could stay at the ranch house for a couple of weeks. We're going for some trial treatment, and his parents want him home.”

  Crissy could imagine how Fred's parents would feel with their only child battling for his life. “I really wish I could help, Pam. I just don't think I can get away. I have to come up with new articles over the next couple of weeks. My boss has threatened us all that we could lose our jobs if we don’t come through.”

  A sigh filtered across the line that punched Crissy in the gut. How could she not help her cousin, and then again, if she even dared to ask for the time off, she could lose her job. Life didn’t seem to be so fair at the moment.

  “I can always find someone to help with the animals. My concern is Kitty. We can’t leave her at the farm by herself. She needs assistance.”

  The twenty-one-year-old tabby was a fond pet for the family and needed care by virtue of her age. She was deaf and partially blind.

  “We’ll find a way,” Pam said after a moment.

  Her usually upbeat personality was absent today. It was quite understandable.

  “I'm so sorry. You know I would gladly come to help if I could, but I'll definitely visit when you return.” Why had Nick picked this specific time to be such a jerk about things? Crissy felt like such a horrible cousin for not being able to be there for Pam and Fred. But what choice did she have? Her job or a twenty-one-year-old tabby?

  “Sure.” The phone went silent. Pam's name was called in the background. “Fred needs me. I have to go.”

  “Huge hugs, dear. And extend my regards to Fred. I'll be knocking on heaven's doors for both of you. Love you.”

  When the call ended, Crissy slipped her phone away. “My cousin,” she said to Becca.

  She didn't feel like eating with this recent news but Becca had already bought her food. Besides, she had another four hours before work ended and needed her energy. Pulling it close, she bowed her head in prayer. But all she could think was, God, please.

  WYATT DANNER KNOCKED on the Moore's door and waited. He glanced around at the small porch. Light spilled from the angled door of the old farmhouse, warming the remodeled porch with a splash of gold.

  He loved what the couple had done with the place in the past year. The door opened and Pamela Moore smiled at him. “Thanks for coming. Come in.”

  Wyatt stepped out of his cowboy boots and followed her in stocking feet through the mocha-scented kitchen.

  Her husband, Fred, lay on the sofa in the living room, a heavy comforter covering him. “How are you feeling today, Fred?” Wyatt asked.

  He raised himself up, and grimaced. “I'm fine.”

  He didn't look fine. He was pale and appeared much slimmer. But, Wyatt kept his observations to himself.

  “Can I get you coffee or anything?” Pamela asked.

  Wyatt shook his head. “Thanks, anyway. You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes.” She was quiet for a moment, her fingers stroking her husband's hair. The look of love that passed between them was unmistakable. It was like his parents’. No wonder Dad took such a hit with Mom's death. The years had not lessened the pain.

  “We have to be away for a couple of weeks while Fred gets assessed for another treatment. I was wondering if you could assist us. All our arrangements have fallen through—my cousin can't get away. Dickson, he’s a friend. We were planning to have him help us, but he can't either. I still have plans to find someone, but if you could help with a few days, that'd be great.”

  Wyatt shrugged. “What would you need me to do?”

  “I've cleared out all the horse stalls so they can go a few days without
. All we would need you to do is feed and water the horses in the morning and then again in the evening.”

  “I can do that.”

  “I'd normally not ask this of you, but I've run out of options. I appreciate your pitching in and helping.”

  “Sure, ma’am.”

  She kissed her husband lightly on the lips and rose. “I'll show you the feed if you don't mind.”

  “Not at all,” Wyatt said, rising. After exchanging goodbyes with Fred, Wyatt followed Pamela outside.

  The earthy smell he associated with horses and manure tickled his nostrils. The barn had been redone from when Wyatt used to come to play with the former owner's kids. It was much bigger than when the Craigs’ owned the place. They'd let it fall into disrepair, but the Moore's seemed to mean business with the dude ranch they were building. If only poor Fred could enjoy a bit of good health.

  A large loft with fodder probably left from winter took all of the front area of the barn. The stalls were huge. Wyatt did a quick count. “You have ten horses.”

  “Yes and two minis. Their stalls are the ones at the end.” Pamela pointed to the bags of grain on top of a shelf. “Whatever you need is here. Supplements are in the cabinet underneath.”

  He nodded.

  She stepped in through a small door and waited for him. Wyatt followed her around the back of the barn to a large chicken coop. At least a dozen or so chickens ran around, pecking at the ground.

  “Feel free to take any of the eggs you like,” Pam said pointing at the hen house. “We won’t be needing them for a while.” She pulled the latch for the gate but it stuck. “This thing always gives me a hard time.”

  Wyatt reached around and pulled hard on the latch and the gate opened.

  “Thank you, Wyatt.” She stepped inside. “Their food is in the bin over there.” She pointed to a large barrel at the back of the coop. “The measuring cup is inside. A couple of scoops will be sufficient for the morning until you come in the evening.”

  “All right.”