Her Country Star Cowboy First Love: Sweet First Love and Second Chance Romance (Solid Gold Summerville Ranch Billionaire Romances Book 1) Read online

  HER COUNTRY STAR COWBOY FIRST LOVE

  SOLID GOLD SUMMERVILLE RANCH BILLIONAIRE ROMANCES

  TAYLOR HART

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Sneak Peak Her Country Star Cowboy Second Chance

  Also by Taylor Hart

  About the Author

  COPYRIGHT

  All rights reserved.

  © 2020 ArchStone Ink

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews. The reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form whether electronic, mechanical or other means, known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the publisher and/or author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This edition is published by ArchStone Ink LLC.

  First eBook Edition: 2020

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Son, you’re not going to like this next job.”

  Shay Summerville’s hackles rose, as they always did when his father told him that he wouldn’t like a job. For the most part, Shay didn’t like what he had to do at the auto body shop. He would rather be writing his songs, but the songs didn’t pay the bills yet.

  “Oh, because he likes all the other jobs?” His sister, Shar, shoved a clipboard into their father’s hands, scrunching her face at Shay. “I think he only likes the job of trying to call country star, Texas Waters, to see if we can open for him.”

  “True.” Shay scrunched his face back at her. “I don’t see you trying to fix cars, do I?”

  “Hush now,” their father said, signing the paperwork and handing it back to Shar. She managed the office with his mother and Leah and Kira, so Shay could only imagine what this paperwork entailed.

  The Summervilles were a big family, nine kids strong and the work was endless. At twenty-three, Shay and his twin brother, Liam, were the second oldest, but they were still around, making music with most of their siblings. The only sibling that was gone was Jack, their oldest brother and twenty-five, was a Navy SEAL and hadn’t been home in a long time. There was also Noah and Shar, the second set of twins, were twenty-one. James and Leah were also twins, age nineteen. At that point, his mother had claimed she was done having kids, but things hadn’t worked out that way, and they’d ended up having Mason, who was now eighteen, and Kira, who was fifteen.

  Shar didn’t let it go, pushing Shay in the shoulder. “If you’d just let Leah release all of our songs indie style, we’d be out of this body shop in no time. You wouldn’t have to worry about trying to get ahold of Texas Waters—he’d be calling us.”

  He rolled his eyes. “That would be nice.” For the past five years, he and his very talented siblings had tried everything they could do to get noticed: traveled to every county fair, and sent their songs to big record labels, since he and Liam had turned twenty-one, they’d played at a number of bars—all to no avail. They needed their big break. Some of his family was pushing to just start releasing it all on the internet, but he was hesitant to do that. He’d seen some of the songs get taken by bigger names, and he didn’t want to be finished before they had a chance. “Yeah, I agree with Dad. Let’s not talk about this right now.”

  “You never want to talk about it.” Shar shook her head. “Your ex-girlfriend left cinnamon rolls for you again. It’s just weird that Kristie still does that.”

  His father sucked in a slow breath. “Oh dear.”

  Shay squared his shoulders as if to shrug off his unrest. Kristie hadn’t taken the breakup six months ago easily, and he’d had to block her phone number. Recently, she’d been leaving little gifts in different places. “I don’t know what to do about Kristie.”

  His father clapped a hand down his shoulder. “I’m lucky I got your momma.”

  Shay laughed; he couldn’t agree more. For instance, his mother not only managed their ranch and helped part-time with the auto body shop; she also kept a tight ship and made sure everyone was busy. With one last chuckle, Shay pushed the hood closed on the 2005 Hyundai Elantra. “She’s done. What do you need?”

  “You checked all of the ten points?” His father patted the top of the hood and lifted his eyebrows.

  Shay resisted the urge to glare at the old man. “And double-checked. What am I not going to like?”

  The side of his father’s lip tugged up. “Apparently, the Senator’s daughter is stranded on the side of the road near Eagle Lake.”

  Shay wrinkled his nose as he thought about the McCades—a rich, snobby family that had been coming to Rutherford since he could remember. He remembered meeting Duke, the senator’s son that was his age, the summer he’d turned thirteen. They’d been friends until Duke had messed it all up. Last summer, he’d almost gotten into a fist fight with Duke.

  “I need you to take the tow truck out there and pick up the girl, then take her to the manor and haul the car back in here.”

  Every part of Shay tensed. His father had been right: he didn’t like picking up tows. The stranded drivers were usually already angry because their car was broken down. Then they spent the whole time on the phone calling everyone and their dog to relate the whole sad story and explain that they were riding in a stinky tow truck. Did they think he didn’t know it stank? Did they think he wanted to listen to their pathetic, sad lives? Nobody cared about their story. He certainly didn’t. He tried to remember who the Senator’s daughter was, but he couldn’t think of her name or face. He knew Duke had a younger sister.

  His father moved past him and dropped the keys into his hand. “From the look on your face, I can see how much this errand appeals to you.” He winked. “You might think about those community college classes. They might be a way out of this town.”

  Irritation poured through Shay. “I’m not giving up on the music,” Shay said, heading toward Bertha. He flung open the yellow, smelly tow truck and tried not to notice the way the seat let out a puff of musty dust. When he turned the key, the engine revved hard and loud. He patted the dash and put her into gear. “Yep, it’s been a while, baby, but here we go.” The truck jerked out of the parking lot, and he gunned it and laughed as he pulled past his father, who gave him an annoyed look. That was the only good thing about working at the shop: he could total
ly tick off his dad, and his dad would put up with him.

  Shay slowed on Rutherford’s Main Street. He’d gotten a ticket two weeks ago. The Rutherford police force prided themselves on keeping the speed limit in check on Main Street. Little did it matter that there were plenty of people smoking it up by the underpass. Chief Wyborn cared more about his precious voters obeying the law as they traveled through town.

  Shay searched the small-town shops. Old Man Simpson was out putting rakes in front of the hardware store. Eva Lynn, the prettiest Italian older lady in town, was opening her flower shop. She saw Shay and her lips lifted into a real smile, which he returned with a wave.

  The bakery sat diagonally across the street from the flower shop. There had been no time for breakfast that morning, and Shay’s stomach rumbled when he thought of Sue Wilson’s eclairs.

  He should have been more focused on the road than on the eclairs. Then again, that wouldn’t have changed the fact that in a blur of motion, a woman carelessly darted into the street.

  Shay slammed his foot on the brake. “What the—?”

  Cindy Irvine, his ex girlfriend’s best friend, stood in front of the truck. Her glorious halter top summer dress and pump heels perfectly matched her red, outraged lips.

  “Crap,” Shay muttered. He hadn’t hit her, but her face would tell another story.

  Her black, spider-like eyes narrowed. She stomped and rushed around to the driver’s side of the tow truck, leaning into his window. “It’s not enough that you break my best friend’s heart—now you have to run me over?”

  The insult was ineffective. Cindy had been a drama queen since the third grade, when the ball had accidentally hit her near the basketball court on the playground. She had never quite recovered.

  Shay squinted at her and tried to look sincere. “Sorry.”

  Her purse pounded against the side of the truck. “Whatever. Why don’t you try telling Kristie you’re sorry?”

  He didn’t dignify that with a response. He pushed slowly on the gas, wishing he was somewhere else. Out of this town.

  Kristie. Ugh. He thought of the look on her face at Christmas when she’d asked if he was going to finally propose, and he’d told her it was over. She hadn’t taken the news well, accusing him of leading him on for two years. She was right—he should have broken it off way before that. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her; it was that she hated his music. She thought it was a waste of time, and he couldn’t have that.

  Shay slowed down as he noticed the group of toked-up kids under the overpass. Unable to stop himself from looking for his brother, Mason, he swerved off the road and leaned out the window. Mason had left home a month ago, declaring that he had a right to do drugs if he wanted—at least pot. His mother and father didn’t agree with him, so they’d parted ways. It had been hard for all of them to have Mason gone, especially their youngest sister, Kira.

  There he was. It was difficult to see into the tunnel, but Mason’s dreadlocks were visible. Shay yelled out, “Hey, Mason, come here!”

  His brother emerged from the darkness, with his overly pierced girlfriend Kelly by his side. Shay didn’t know how to tell her that the dozen or so earrings, nose rings, and lip rings were really not as attractive as she thought.

  Mason didn’t look much better; his oversized black pants and baggy T-shirt made his skinny, white body and ultra-dyed black hair stand out. He swaggered over to the truck, a smile cracking his face. “Bro, this really isn’t your scene.”

  Shay could smell him before he even got within range. He reached for his wallet. “When was the last time you ate anything?”

  Mason let out a low, rough laugh. “I told you not to worry about it last week.”

  “Come here.” Shay leaned out the window.

  Mason left his girlfriend’s side and closed the remaining distance. “Dude.” His voice was annoyed, but Shay knew he needed the money. Apparently, they had money for drugs but not for food.

  Shay pulled one twenty from his wallet and put it into Mason’s hand. “Dude,” he parroted, mimicking Mason’s tone. He then seized Mason by the collar, surprising himself. “Come home Sunday for dinner and get a shower; Mom and Dad wouldn’t care.”

  A look of embarrassment washed over Mason. He exhaled, and the rank smell of smoker breath made Shay want to gag. “Naw, but thanks for the cash.”

  Shay let him go. “Will you please buy food with it?”

  “Sure.”

  It was a lie. Shay wished there was something he could say that would get his brother to see reason. “What about the solid gold Summerville eight? What about that?” The solid gold Summerville Eight was supposed to be their band name when they all became famous for their music.

  “I think that ship sailed for me a long time ago, don’t you?” Mason asked with a grunt. The phrase was something their sister, Shar, had constantly repeated to all of them if they were having a hard time.

  Shay nodded and drove off. The tow truck wasn’t easy to turn, but he curved her wide around the underpass and headed back onto the road.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he whipped it out. “Yup,” he said by way of greeting.

  “Are you there yet?” his father asked.

  He passed the ten-mile sign to Eagle Lake. “Almost.”

  “Why are you dinking around? The girl just called again.”

  The lower pit of his gut clenched. “I checked in on Mason.”

  “Oh.” There was a hitch in the voice at the other end of the phone. “How is he?”

  “He’s … alive.”

  His father exhaled. “Thanks for checking on him.”

  Shay swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’ll pick up the rich girl in just a sec, okay?”

  “That’s fine.”

  Shay swerved onto the road that signaled he would be there soon. “I’m almost there. I’ll call you when I retrieve the princess.” He ended the call and rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with some rich, prissy girl.

  He turned the switch on the radio and tried to tune in to the rock station he liked. He cranked up the volume and watched the thick trees give way to the prairie grass of the lake. It didn’t look like much on this side of the lake, just a bunch of lilies and grass. A couple of boats were floating out on the lake. It was early June, and summer was about to be in full swing. In his younger years, he’d spent more days out on the lake with his friend, Butch. Maybe he’d go all the way around the lake on the way home and see if Butch was out there.

  Something moved in his peripheral vision, and he yanked his attention back to the road. Then, for the second time that day, he swore as he almost hit someone.

  CHAPTER 2

  J aycee McCade watched placidly as the truck barreled toward her at lightning speed. She could have avoided it by standing on the side of the road instead of the middle. She might have cared if her mother hadn’t died three months ago. She might have cared if she hadn’t just discovered that her father had a mistress he’d been waiting to bring into the light for the last ten years. By this point, it was hard to care about anything, least of all herself.

  She closed her eyes and hoped that it would be a clean hit.

  It wasn’t. Her ears were assaulted by the screech of tires and the crunch of metal as the truck smashed into her father’s Mustang convertible. He stored that convertible at the airport in Rutherford for summer vacations, and he would be very upset that it was crumpling under the huge tow truck.

  Finally, all of the crunching and swerving and tires on gravel stopped. Rock music thundered out at a decibel level that no human should be able to withstand. The collision would have been impressive if it were shown on some reality television show that focused on huge trucks crushing beautiful, pristine cars.

  Jaycee didn’t move from the middle of the road.

  A door slammed, and a very angry, very muscular guy in a black tank top stormed toward her. His dark hair jutted out just below his ears and fell in waves around his face
. His skin was already tan, suggesting that he’d spent a lot of time at the lake. “What the heck was that?”

  His anger flipped a switch inside of Jaycee, smothering all the melancholy and numbness of the last three months. “What?” she asked defiantly, in the same tone she wished she could talk to her father.

  The man grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side of the road. “You just stood there. In the middle of the road,” he accused. “You didn’t try to jump out of the way or even look afraid. You just stood there like a stupid deer in the headlights. What kind of crap is that?”

  Usually, Jaycee might be described as “temperamental,” “stuck up,” or even “aloof”—that last one was from the therapist as he’d told her father over the phone that the trip to Rutherford was a bad idea this summer. She needed more care, the therapist had said. Maybe she should be checked into the facility and given more time. Good thing she hadn’t even told anyone about the terrifying dreams she’d been having; dreams her mother had told her about before she’d passed.

  Jaycee suddenly laughed. Hard. It wasn’t a ha-ha laugh; if her therapist could hear it, he might put her straight back into an evaluation. This was the kind of high-pitched, psychotic giggle that bubbled inside teenage girls when they saw a cute boy. Granted, Jaycee was twenty-one and had just finished her junior year at Harvard, but it didn’t matter, she was going certifiably crazy.

  “Hey.” The guy snapped his fingers in her face, looking pissed. “Knock it off, princess, and answer my question. Why didn’t you get out of the way?”

  As if the stars had aligned, the sound of a Harley Davidson rumbled down the highway toward them. She turned and recognized her older brother, Duke, with his insanely blond hair blowing back without a helmet. He would be pissed with her; that was a given. If he’d been sent by their father, he’d be even more pissed. For a pothead, he had a bad temper—or at least that had been the case when she’d last seen him at her mother’s funeral.