Certified Cowboy Read Free

and her heart stuttered. A huge porch complete with rocking chairs and colorful flowers flanking the front made it feel homey and inviting. Then she spotted other log cabins strewn across the land, and realized the lodge was central to the operation but they also offered individual cabins, probably for guests or employees. From what she’d read, there were acres and acres of riding trails, ponds and camping sites for the campers.
    This house, the sprawling ranch, the stables and rolling land, was the kind of place dreams were made on.
    Only, she’d stopped dreaming a long time ago.
    Still, she parked and grabbed her purse. Before she could go around to open the back door for Kenny, he’d unfastened his seat belt and jumped out. “Can I ride now?”
    Rachel climbed from the vehicle. “No, not yet.” Rachel led him up the stone pathway to the front porch. “Now remember, Mommy has to get a job here so we can stay. So be a good boy for me, okay? And remember our game. Right now our last name is Simmons. Rachel and Kenny Simmons.”
    He bobbed his head up and down. She knew the name change was confusing, but it was necessary, so she squeezed his hand, then knocked on the door.
    A second later, the door opened, and Rachel could only gawk. A big rugged cowboy wearing a black Stetson with silver trim, chambray shirt, jeans, a belt buckle engraved with a bucking bull and black boots with rhinestone studs stared down at her. He was at least six-three, had shoulders so wide that he filled half the doorway, and crystal blue eyes that sparkled with a hint of the devil inside. Lady-killer eyes.
    Eyes she recognized from magazine articles, newspaper stories and TV.
    Johnny Long. Famous rodeo star. Bronco rider. Barrel racer. Champion bull rider. You name it, Johnny Long had done and had won it.
    He was also a notorious playboy. A man who wrecked women’s hearts.
    Suddenly her voice wouldn’t work.
    “Howdy,” he said in a lazy Texas drawl. “Did you come to register your little boy for camp?”
    Kenny pulled at her hand. “Mommy, can I do camp?”
    Rachel struggled to pull herself together. “Actually, I…came to apply for a job.”
    “All right.” His eyes cut over her, then he seemed to zero in on her neck, and the friendly gleam in his eyes died.
    Rachel automatically adjusted the scarf she’d tied around her throat to hide the bruises Rex had left.
    But it was too late. He had seen them.
    Her heart hammered. If he thought she was in trouble, he probably wouldn’t hire her.
    Then where would she and Kenny go?

    R EX CURSED AS HE TORE through the small house where his wife had lived. It had taken him half an hour to cut the damn handcuffs apart with bolt cutters, then another ten to pick the stupid lock.
    He rubbed at the angry red marks on his wrists. The damn bitch would be sorry for what she’d done.
    He stormed through the bedroom, ripping apart the bedding with his knife, then he slashed the mattress covering and pillows, shredding the insides just to purge his fury.
    But his blood was still boiling.
    Determined that she wouldn’t escape him, he raked through the small desk in the corner, searching for any clue as to where she might take his son next. He’d been chasing her for months from one small Podunk town to another, from divey hotels to rental houses to cabins not fit for a dog to live in, much less his kid.
    She was turning Kenny against him. His own son looked at him as if he was a monster just because of the filthy lies that came from that woman’s mouth.
    How could she do this to him?
    She’d vowed to love him, to honor him and cherish him, but she’d turned on him. She’d told filthy lies about him. Used his son to bargain her way into earning sympathy from that snotty lawyer lady.
    Hell, she’d probably spread her legs and slept with the bastard judge to get him to sign those damn divorce papers.
    Both of them would pay for that.
    Blind rage ate at him, and he jerked open the dresser drawers,