Amazed by You (Riding Tall Book 11) Read online

  Table of 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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Amazed by You

  Cheyenne McCray

  Copyright © 2017 by Cheyenne McCray LLC

  All rights reserved.

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

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Amazed by You

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Also by Cheyenne McCray

  More by Cheyenne McCray

  About the Author

  Amazed by You

  “Riding Tall” series

  by Cheyenne McCray

  Chapter 1

  “Well, hell.” Jayson McBride raised his Stetson, pushed his fingers through his hair, and plopped his hat back onto his head as he stared at the spectacle that had invaded his ranch. “Never making a bet like this again. Might never make another bet of any kind.”

  Jack flashed a grin and nodded in the direction of the intruders in front of Jayson’s barn. “Maybe we’ll meet one of those models with their asses damn near showing.”

  Jayson rested his arms on the top rail of the corral. He glared at his fraternal twin who should have sympathized. “Those ladies are at least fifteen years younger than us. I need that like I need a hole in my head.”

  “Options, bro.” Jack laughed before adding, “Monty did say the fashion designer herself is a looker and right in our ballpark.”

  Just hearing Monty Tinsman’s name caused Jayson to scowl again. “He also said the woman is a witch in high heels.” Jayson sighed. Another part of this ordeal to deal with. “She’s supposed to be here tomorrow.” He glanced at Jack. “Why don’t you show her around?” He wasn’t hopeful, but he gave it a shot.

  “Sorry, but I think I’ll be busy.” Jack didn’t look the least bit sorry. “I’m sure you’ll handle her just fine.”

  Jayson glanced down at Thor, who sat on his haunches. “What about you? Maybe you could keep her company.”

  The Border Collie tilted his head and stared up, his intelligent eyes seeming to say, “Don’t look at me, buddy.”

  Jayson shook his head and stared up at the cloudless Arizona sky. He glanced toward the conglomeration of vans, makeup artists, wardrobe stylists, hairstylists, and set designers. Then there was all the camera equipment the photographer and fashion designer had deemed necessary for the shoot, and who knew what else.

  Not to forget a meal wagon—the smells of dried-out pizza and overcooked corn dogs actually overpowered the odor of manure. Yeah, that was some nasty crap in that wagon.

  At least nine models were supposed to be in and out of the commercial shoot in less than a week’s timeframe. At least that was what Monty said, and Jayson wasn’t sure he could trust the man after this. Nine models and four days to a week of shooting, print and film, for a new clothing line.

  Great.

  He hoped his ranch would still be in one piece when they all finally cleared out.

  He looked up at the clear sky again and wondered if it would stay that way. In central Arizona, during monsoon season, a storm could sweep in before they knew what was happening. Rain was a blessing for a state experiencing a long drought. This was one time Jayson prayed rain would hold off this week so that this circus would be out of town in a hurry.

  “Here comes your favorite person.” Amusement rode Jack’s words. “He’s looking mighty proud of himself.”

  Bring in the clowns.

  Monty Tinsman ambled toward them, his belly bouncing as he walked. The muscles in Jayson’s shoulders knotted.

  Thor let out a low rumble. He’d hadn’t liked Monty from the moment the man stepped onto the Flying F.

  Jayson should have listened.

  The owner of a decent spread at the foot of the Bradshaw Mountains in Prescott, Monty was a part-time Arizona resident who headed to upstate New York in the summer. Apparently, he’d told the designer of a clothing line he’d do her a favor, and she could use Monty’s ranch to do the shoot.

  A poker night, a few beers, and a goddamned glorious bet. Now, the whole mess was in Jayson’s front yard.

  Monty reached Jayson and Jack, and the bastard grinned. His over-the-top thousand dollar Stetson, two thousand dollar Tony Lama boots, movie star-white teeth, and tanning bed tan didn’t make him look any more like a cowboy than Jayson looked like one of those slick movie stars. Monty seemed to be a good guy, though, unless you counted sticking Jayson with this mess.

  “I’m surprised you’d show your face around here.” Jack grasped Monty’s hand. “Good to see you, Mont.”

  Jayson grumbled under his breath, “It’s far too soon.”

  Monty laughed. “I figured there’d be no problem with the magazine switching locations to your ranch, Jayson.” He appraised their surroundings. “I’ve got a nice piece of property, but yours puts mine to shame.”

  “I had a full house, ace high.” Jayson shook his head. “And you beat me with a royal flush.”

  “That was some bet.” Jack nodded. “Don’t feel bad, bro. With your hand, I’d have been all over betting a shoot on the ranch against that prize bull of his.”

  Monty chuckled.

  Jayson wanted a do-over.

  But what was done was done. His younger sister Bailey’s voice rang in his mind with one of her favorite sayings, “Suck it up, Buttercup.”

  Where’d she get that crap from anyway?

  Jayson shook his head. One of the worst things was a sore loser, and he didn’t intend to start down that path. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t give a little payback if the opportune time arose.

  “I’ve got work to do.” Jayson put his hand on Monty’s big shoulder. “By the way, I hear paybacks are a bitch.”

  Jack snorted. “I’d watch your back if I were you, Mont.”

  Thor gave a throaty growl, as if in agreement.

  Monty laughed, then took a look at Jayson’s expression. His laugh weakened and faded away. “I know you’re not serious—” His throat worked.

  Jack chuckled. “I would take Jayson’s word on this one.” Still grinning, he added, “I best be on my way too. My horses aren’t going to ride themselves.”

  He nodded his goodbye to Monty and flashed a quick grin at Jayson before taking off.

  Jayson slapped his hand on Monty’s shoulder. “See you around, Mont.”

  The man nodded. “Sooner or later.”

  “Unfortunately it’s likely sooner.” Jayson headed toward the barn with Thor at his heels, and held back a heavy sigh as he worked his way through the crowd.

  All this for a damned clothing line?

  “No, no, no, no,” shouted Trevor, the photographer who was no wider than a sheet of paper. As thin as he was, it was a wonder he could hold his monster of a camera.

  Trevor braced t
he camera on his knee and snapped his fingers at the model in front of him.

  In the background, several cowhands gawked. Jayson needed to pay them a visit since they seemed to be distracted by a slip of a woman in a skimpy outfit, instead of doing what he paid them to do.

  Trevor snapped until he caught the model’s attention. “Mina, pay attention. I don’t want to see you staring at any cowboy asses. Leave that to me.”

  The young woman smirked and struck some kind of pose Jayson imagined was supposed to be sexy. The blonde wore skin-tight jeans on her Coke bottle hips and a crazy-ass top that bared her belly. This was what was popular now? Jayson knew nothing about fashion and could care less.

  Jayson preferred strong women, and the country girls he knew kicked ass and took names. They did not look like they just walked out of a Scottsdale boutique on their way to a spa treatment.

  A lot of the country girls around these parts cleaned up real well and were sexy as hell. All without worrying if they were going to break a nail while rounding up cattle.

  That fashion designer hell on heels, who’d be arriving tomorrow, ought to be interesting. No doubt, she’d be one of those women who screamed at the sight of a horsefly and couldn’t figure out what to do with a horse if her life depended on it. He wondered what she’d do if she was told she had to shovel shit for a week to do her damned photoshoot here.

  Yeah, that might be fun to see.

  Thor stayed close and they dodged a hairstylist and a man from the food wagon before ducking into the cool recesses of the barn. Jayson blinked a few times as his eyes grew used to the dim light.

  He’d owned the Flying F since he was in his late twenties. Back then he and his buddies thought it sounded flat out hilarious to name the ranch “I don’t give a Flying Fuck,” only shortened to “the Flying F.”

  Shiloh snorted from one corner of the barn. The pregnant mare made the sound in a way that told Jayson the horse was concerned about the commotion going on outside.

  “It’s okay, girl.” Jayson reached Shiloh and stroked the brindle mare’s nose. “Sorry about that damned mess out there. I’m going fix it, but it looks like I need to talk with the gal running the show tomorrow.” He traced the star on her forehead with his fingertips. “But if it’s too much for you now, I’ll take you over to Justice’s place, where it’ll just be you and a few of your equine pals.”

  Shiloh whickered.

  “Yes, I mean it.” Jayson nodded. “I don’t want you upset, girl.

  She snorted and bobbed her head.

  “Deal.” He patted her neck. He normally would have taken her for a ride. But she was so close to foaling, he wouldn’t ride her hard like he needed right now.

  Jayson moved to Starlight’s stall. The chestnut jerked her head up and down. The mare was high strung to begin with, and the noise outside the barn wasn’t helping anything.

  “Why don’t you, Thor, and I escape this madhouse and go for a ride?” Jayson slid his fingers down her neck.

  Thor barked.

  Starlight snorted and bobbed hear head again in sharp movements. Yeah, she was going to be one hell of a ride today.

  “Well, then. Let’s do it.” He glanced where his cowhands were too busy staring at the model. “But first I need to have a talk with some of my men who aren’t doing what they should be.”

  It wasn’t like them, but they had work to do. With the size of his operation, too much needed to be done to stand around doing nothing but looking at a nearly naked woman.

  After Jayson gave his men a good talking to, and they were back to work, he returned to the barn.

  The Border collie stayed close to Starlight as Jayson grabbed a bridle, a horse blanket and his saddle. When he’d saddled up the mare, he checked her over to make sure she was ready to go in every sense of the word. He grasped her bridle and led her out the rear entrance of the barn, the opposite direction of the insanity that was currently his ranch.

  “Oh, crap.” Celine Northland knelt on one knee to gather the many pages from a stack of scattered papers. They’d slid out of the handbag she’d just dropped in the middle of the ramp leading from the airplane to a place she’d rather not be. “Just one more fantastic thing to add to this absolutely perfect day.”

  Not.

  Passengers squeezed by to either side of her. Not one person stopped to help her retrieve the sheets of paper.

  A child tore by and trampled one of the signature pages of a document she needed to sign and return to Monty, her CFO. The girl left a perfect imprint of a small and very dirty shoe where Celine was supposed to sign.

  “Aaaand thank you very much.” Heat crept up Celine’s neck as she looked over her shoulder. “Where the hell are your parents, anyway?” she muttered under her breath.

  A young woman holding a naked doll hurried up the ramp. The woman’s hair was slipping from a French braid and red sauce stained her white shirt. She zipped past Celine and trampled another one of Celine’s pages. “Chloe!”

  Celine groaned. Question answered.

  Kids.

  A sheltered only child—of parents who were each only children—Celine had grown up with a series of private tutors and nannies. Celine hadn’t often been around kids her age, or kids of any age for that matter. She wouldn’t know what to do with one of the little monsters if it landed in her lap.

  God, help me.

  Celine snatched up the soiled papers Monty had scanned and emailed to her, but she hadn’t had a chance to read yet. After she had gathered everything into her arms, she shoved the lot into a folder and stuffed it back into her Louis Vuitton tote with her laptop. She hitched it up on her shoulder, her purse on the other, and headed up the gangway.

  Bright sunshine poured in through the massive windows. She’d never been to Arizona, but she’d heard the usual about Phoenix—you could fry an egg on the sidewalk or bake brownies on a dashboard. And she’d heard the constant refrain, “But it’s a dry heat.”

  Celine didn’t bother peering out the windows for more than a cursory glance. Airports weren’t generally known for allowing passengers a view of much more than tarmac and the usual building clutter. Airports were such messy things.

  She’d been in countless locations around the globe since she was old enough to travel without a nanny. She’d just about seen it all.

  Her parents had never wanted to visit Arizona. Too hot, they’d said. If Celine moved to this state, she likely wouldn’t see her parents unless she dropped in on them in their luxury Manhattan condo.

  Not seeing her parents. Now there was a benefit to moving to a place like this.

  She sighed. What she wouldn’t give for parents who actually cared. Her heart ached and she had to push the thoughts and feelings aside.

  Celine didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings, too focused on making her way to baggage claim. Maybe she’d lived in Manhattan for too long. Like every other New Yorker, she kept her eyes focused ahead and didn’t meet a stranger’s gaze.

  Like the saying went, Things to do, places to go, people to see.

  A breeze came in from the sliding glass doors as she passed them on the lower level, the wind shifting her long silk skirt around her legs. Her outfit was of her design. She wore low heels for comfort, but frequently wore higher heels. She was five-ten, but with three-inch heels she reached six-one, intimidating for most men below that height. But she wasn’t going to stop wearing high heels just to make a man feel good about himself.

  When she’d reached baggage claim, she tapped her foot as she waited for her luggage. The way her day had gone, her bags might have ended up in Pittsburgh.

  Stay strong. Have hope.

  Someday. Someday they’ll be here.

  She’d always figured if a person paid for first class then her luggage should be off the plane first. Never seemed to work out that way.

  Of course, her two hard shell suitcases came up the conveyor belt last, but at least they’d made it to Phoenix with her. She secured her lugg
age and headed out to catch a cab.

  The airport wasn’t exceptionally busy, and within fifteen minutes she was on her way to the AAA Five Diamond Scottsdale Princess Resort in North Scottsdale. One of Celine’s select few friends, Meredith, had told her she had to go to the Princess when she came to Scottsdale. Meredith knew fine resort living and knew it well.

  The sunshine and the warmth didn’t surprise Celine—she’d never been to Arizona, but she’d seen plenty of photographs. What did surprise her was just how much she liked the view. She’d thought the Phoenix desert would be far too barren for her tastes. But what she saw through the cab’s windows, between the airport and the Princess, called to her in a way that mystified her.

  Clear blue skies and an endless stretch of land that went on for miles, gave her an aching desire to explore this place, so different from any location she’d been before.

  Breathing room. She had none of that in New York City. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to live in a place with so much space.

  And it was a dry heat. No humidity to cause her hair to go curly or melt her insanely expensive designer, supposedly un-meltable, makeup.

  Bonus points for Arizona.

  Celine tapped her fingers on her purse. She needed to focus on the commercial shoot and the print ads. She’d been doing her best to not think about what had become a complete headache. She had to go to a ranch tomorrow, for however long it took to get the commercial done. A ranch somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

  And horses. I’ll be near horses.

  Her throat ached and she shoved the thought aside.

  Why couldn’t Rod have found a place in North Scottsdale instead of going for Monty’s lame rustic ranch idea? From everything she’d read, Scottsdale was much more civilized than Prescott. But she’d only get to spend the one night here, and then off to the Arizona wilds—or so she imagined.