Cowboy Crush : A Small Town, Enemies-to-Lovers YA Romance (Sweet Oak Teen Ranch Book 1) Read online

  Cowboy Crush

  BOOK ONE

  in the Sweet Oak Teen Ranch series

  LACY ANDERSEN

  COWBOY CRUSH

  Copyright 2021 by Lacy Andersen

  All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Cowboy Crush (Sweet Oak Teen Ranch, #1)

  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

  Epilogue

  Excerpt

  About the Author

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  Chapter One

  Graham

  The day they dropped me off at the Sweet Oak Teen Ranch was the first time someone called me an accidental cowboy. It hadn’t taken me long to figure out that wasn’t a compliment. The boys at Sweet Oak were rough and broken. Every last one of them hanging at the end of their ropes, waiting to be tossed back into the system at a moment’s notice.

  Today I, Graham McGrady, was busting out of that system.

  But not before I left behind a message.

  My forefinger cramped as I pushed down harder on the nozzle of the spray can. Red droplets of paint speckled the sun-baked skin on my forearm and the acrid fumes burned my nose, for once pushing out the permanent scent of hay and horses stuck there from living on the ranch. Standing back, I gave myself just a moment to check out my own work. In only a few seconds, I’d managed to turn this boring little white gazebo into a warning sign to all those living in Blue River.

  No one cares!

  I read my message aloud to myself, the letters printed in bold red. The gazebo stood in a tiny abandoned park on the edge of downtown, surrounded by a dingy rose garden and a rusty old swing set. A single streetlight illuminated the street across from it, keeping me mostly in the dark. It was a sickly hot August night, the kind that caused the sweat to stick to the back of my neck and made a guy feel in constant need of a shower or an extra layer of deodorant. A few lightning bugs dared to shine nearby, proving how late it’d gotten.

  My work here was done. I capped my spray paint and threw it in the nearby trashcan. It wasn’t in my plans to get caught tonight, but if growing up on the streets of Kansas City—before the biggest mistake of my life got me tossed into foster care—had taught me anything, it was to always get rid of the evidence.

  I shouldered my backpack and glanced down the road toward the interstate overpass that ran just on the other side of town. Somewhere over there was my ticket out of here. Hitch-hiking wasn’t exactly the coolest way to travel, but I was desperate. I had to get out of here—and I had to find my way back home.

  Blue River was a one-horse town—a gaping hole in the ground of a flyover state. But even then, most townies around here never left. And they would’ve been personally insulted by my sudden need to evacuate the place as soon as possible. They didn’t understand that a big world waited out there. A world that didn’t keep them locked down with rules and expectations.

  “A world where no one cares if you were a messed-up kid,” I muttered into the empty gazebo, regret and pain taking hold of my gut in a tight grip.

  But there was no time for a pity party. I could hear someone headed toward me. Two people were talking. The downtown area of Blue River should’ve been practically abandoned on a Sunday night like this, but apparently it was just my luck.

  Cursing under my breath, I looked around, desperate for a hiding place. No way was I getting caught before I could get out of this town. The rose bushes would have to do.

  The thorns bit painfully into the soft parts of my flesh as I flattened myself in the flower bed. I tasted dirt and wood chips with every inhale of breath while I squinted through the leaves and waited for the two people to pass me by. Soon enough, a single form came into view. It was a girl, no older than me. She wore her straw-yellow hair in two thick braids down the sides of her head and a matching pale-yellow dress that fell down to her knees. Holding up a phone as she walked, she glared at the bright screen.

  “I’m just saying, Hank, if you hadn’t felt the need to show off in front of the cheerleaders, I wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

  “I can’t help it, Cassidy,” the guy on the phone answered in a nasally tone. “You know I’m helpless when they shake those pompoms. Blame school spirit. It’s not my fault the pavement had a grudge with me.”

  Recognition flared inside of me as she drew closer. This was Cassidy Redmond, a senior up at Blue River High School. We had some of the same classes. She was the typical overachiever. The one that sat near the front of the classroom and always had a seat at the popular lunch tables. Ambitious, smart, going places. Everything I wasn’t. I was pretty sure we’d never said a word to each other in the year I’d spent at the Sweet Oak Teen Ranch. And why would we?

  Her dad was only the town sheriff.

  Cassidy stopped just a few feet from where I lay on the ground, and only inches from the scene of my crime. I cursed violently into the dirt, instantly regretting not making a break for it. If her dad came along, there’d be no chance for me. I’d be carted back to the ranch in cuffs, with another red mark on my file and security so tight there’d never be another chance for me to slip away. Then I’d never get to find my mom or my brother. I’d be stuck in this crappy town forever.

  Cassidy shifted on the sidewalk in front of me, oblivious to her audience, the metal clasps on her sandals catching the light of the streetlamp. She smacked a hand to her forehead and sighed dramatically at the image of Hank on her screen. “It’s not my fault you decided to do a backflip at the football game last night and bust your leg. Why can’t the doctors just put a steel rod in and be done with it?”

  “They said I have to stay off of it for at least six weeks.”

  “Which means I’m out a cameraman for my blog.” Her voice broke and she cleared her throat. “You know how important this thing is to me. And my mom. We’re running out of time.”

  “I know.” Hank grew quiet. “I’m really sorry, Cas.”

  “Oh, it’s not your fault. Not really.”

  She tilted her head to the side, the ligh
t of her phone screen reflecting in her eyes. I couldn’t tell for sure from this angle, but she almost looked like she was about to cry. Her chin was puckered, her lower lip quivering.

  Immediately, a shot of sympathy went through me. I tried to brush it off, unwilling to feel anything more than disinterest for the people of this town. Cassidy Redmond didn’t need my sympathy. She was the kind of girl that had everything. I didn’t need to waste my feelings on her. Still, as her voice quivered, it twisted me up just a little bit more inside.

  “I’ll figure out what to do, Hank,” she said with a sniffle. Smiling into the camera, she nodded. “Don’t you worry about me. ’Kay? You just get better as soon as you can.”

  She ended the video call and threw her head back, moaning out her frustration. I shook my head, brushing off the unwelcome feelings from moments earlier. More than anything, I was counting the seconds until she left and getting tired of breathing in the dust that had settled beneath the bushes. There were half a dozen scratches along my arms from the thorns and at least one of them had drawn blood. I felt the sensation of warm liquid dripping down my skin but didn’t dare move a muscle. Cassidy was still standing there.

  What was she waiting for?

  “Mom, I’m really sorry about this,” she muttered as she placed her hands on her head and turned back to the park. “I know I’m letting you down right now.”

  I looked around, searching for the person she was talking to. I hadn’t seen anyone else come up, but maybe I’d been distracted. Still, there didn’t seem to be anyone here. Just Cassidy. Apparently, the girl was guano crazy. No surprise, after growing up in this town.

  She sighed, threw her hands down, and then turned in the direction of the gazebo. “What the—?”

  Her body went rigid. There was no doubt that she was taking in my art work. I smirked in the dark, feeling slightly proud of myself. At least someone got to see my message before the town white-washed any sign of rebellion from sight.

  I could hear her call someone on her phone, but still, I didn’t move a muscle. My left calf was beginning to cramp, and my right wrist was killing me. If she didn’t get out of here soon, I was going to be in need of a wheelchair to get anywhere.

  “Hey, Daddy?” Cassidy’s feet moved toward the gazebo and I could see her reach up to her tiptoes to get a better look at it. “I’m at the Memorial Park. Someone’s marked it with some red spray paint. Might want to send one of your boys in blue over to have a look.”

  I cursed under my breath, anxiety making my stomach turn sour. Of all the people to come around the block at this time of night, it had to be the sheriff’s daughter. And now, I had a police car headed my way.

  Cassidy hummed approval into her phone and then nodded with the phone pressed against her cheek. “Yeah, I’m heading home now. See you soon. Love you.”

  As Cassidy ended her call with her dad, I began to weigh my options. Either I could stay here, and get picked off like a sitting duck, or I could make a break for it.

  The second option was clearly the only answer.

  With her work now done, Cassidy headed back the way she’d come, her long legs moving at a glacial pace. When she finally rounded the corner to the local hair salon, I shot out of those rosebushes, bursting into a sprint for the other side of the street. Except, it was more of a hobble, as the cramp in my calf doubled down and shot darts of blinding pain up my leg. My boots clapped against the ground like the hooves of a lame horse. Cursing and grunting with every other breath, I managed to get halfway across the street before I heard a shout behind me.

  “Hey! Stop! I see you there!”

  I glanced over my shoulder, then swore. It was Cassidy, headed my way once again. She held her phone high as if she were recording my getaway. She must’ve been waiting for me to show my face. The girl was braver than she looked. Fire blazed in her eyes, as if she meant to take me down herself.

  That’s what I got for underestimating a cop’s daughter.

  “I’ve got your face on video,” she yelled.

  Maybe that was true, but she was no match for my speed. And it didn’t matter if she had me on video, as long as no one caught me. I lengthened my stride, the cramp finally working its way out of my calf, and easily began to put space between us. It wasn’t until I’d reached the end of the block did I look back to find her no longer following me.

  Cassidy had stopped in the middle of the road. She was reaching down and tugging at her foot. I squinted in the pale streetlight to see what was going on and realized she must’ve broken her sandal. She pulled it off her foot, held it up to her face, and used the flashlight on her phone to illuminate it.

  So much for the chase. I dropped my backpack to the ground and leaned against the brick wall of the office building, grinning like a fool at her frustration. Apparently, sandals weren’t the best footwear for hunting down criminals. She needed a pair of cowboy boots like the ones on my feet. Good for mucking out stalls, riding western saddles, and running away from the law. Still, I couldn’t let myself get too caught up in all of this. If I hurried, I could hitch a ride and be in KC within the next couple hours.

  For once, it was my lucky star shining up above.

  But that satisfaction quickly drained away when I spotted a small car headed in our direction. The headlights had been dimmed down to fog lights and it was weaving back and forth, unsteady like a ship in a storm. Cassidy was still fidgeting with her sandal, totally oblivious to the incoming threat. I stood up a little straighter, waiting for the car to slow down. It didn’t. Instead, it started edging into the opposite lane of traffic and directly toward Cassidy.

  “Look out,” I shouted, cupping my mouth.

  Cassidy’s head snapped up and she glared accusingly at me. “Don’t look so smug. They’ll still catch you.”

  I shook my head, my heart starting to thunder loudly. The car was getting closer and it didn’t seem like it was going to stop. Fifty feet. Forty. Thirty.

  All I gave myself was one brief moment of hesitation. One tiny second where I imagined not giving a crap about anyone but myself. And then...it was over and I was sprinting back toward Cassidy, every muscle in my body screaming out in protest.

  Her eyes grew wide and fearful as she watched me come up fast on her, like she thought I was going to attack. I wrapped my arms around her, crushing her against my chest as we flew toward the opposite side of the street. Someone inside the car must’ve finally woken up, because they laid on their horn, a terrible shrieking noise that cut right through the fear and made my teeth grind. Cassidy squealed in my arms, surprise causing her to stiffen.

  My boot caught a rut in the road and we both went down. Hard. I turned my body the best I could to shield her from the impact, causing us to roll several feet before we stopped with her lying on top of me. Somewhere between the tackle and the fall, I’d rapped my head hard against something. I blinked rapidly, my skull smarting and my lungs screaming out in pain as I tried and failed to gasp for air. The sound of tire squeals down the block was the only sign that the driver of the car had made their quick getaway.

  “Are-are you okay?” Cassidy asked, pushing herself up enough to stare down at me.

  My lungs still weren’t working. It was as if I’d taken a direct punch to the diaphragm. I gasped for breath and pressed my hands to my gut. Concern was growing in Cassidy’s eyes. Little strands of straw-yellow hair fell down into her face, a smear of dirt marring her left cheek. Still, despite the utter lack of oxygen, my body didn’t fail to register the fact that Cassidy’s warm body was pressed up entirely against mine.

  It wasn’t a bad feeling.

  “What’s going on here?” a deep voice called. It was followed by the scuffle of footsteps coming closer.

  Cassidy scrambled to get off of me. She wrapped her arms around her torso and nodded down in the direction of where the car had disappeared. “Trip! Thank goodness you’re here. Someone nearly ran us over.”

  Finally, I managed to drag in a brea
th of sweet, sweet air. Gasping, I pushed myself up into a sitting position and stared in alarm at the man standing in a dark blue uniform before me. He had a black utility belt around his waist, complete with a taser on one side and a gun on the other. Dread filled my gut. It was a cop.

  So much for that luck.

  “Did you catch a look at the vehicle make and plate?” the cop asked, his head swiveling to catch a sign of the car, but it had long disappeared.

  “It was dark...and compact?” Cassidy chewed on her thumbnail uncertainly. “I think the headlights were out. I honestly didn’t even see them coming until they were right on me.”

  “They were driving with their fog lights on,” I said, my voice coming out gruffer than I’d meant it. Both of them looked down at me as I sat on the pavement. I rubbed a hand over my elbow, checking for scrapes and bruises from that epic fall. “And if you ask me, it looked like a Honda.”

  The cop didn’t look totally convinced as he arched his brow and then pulled his little notebook out of his chest pocket. Scribbling something down on the pad, he put it back and then slowly looked me over.

  “You one of them Oakie boys?” he asked.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, he knew I was an Oakie. Most everyone else in this town had grown up here, so the kids at Sweet Oak Teen Ranch stuck out like a sore thumb. Did he even have to ask?

  “Yes, sir.” I pressed my lips into a thin frown, daring him to make a big deal out of it.

  “Right.” His eyes flashed, as if he knew what I was thinking. “Well, since it seems to have disappeared, we’ll just have to keep our eye out for the Honda tonight. In the meantime, Charlie sent me out here to look at some vandalism. Did you call that in, Cass?”

  “Oh, yeah.” The slight shock Cassidy had been wearing since the incident faded away. She turned to glare at the park, which wasn’t far behind us. “Someone tagged the gazebo with red spray paint. I called it in to Dad. It looked fresh to me. I waited around the corner to see if anyone was around and then he popped up out of the rose bushes.” She turned to point at me.