The Prodigal Cowboy. Kathleen Eagle

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       Ethan shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You date real cowboys?”

      “Not so far.” Bella looked at him quizzically. “Funny. I never thought of you as a cowboy.”

      “How did you think of me?”

      “It wasn’t easy. I had to deal with a certain mental block. But look at you now. You’ve got the boots, the Wrangler jeans, the hat.” She smiled. “That hat looks as though it could tell some campfire stories.”

      He tapped her arm with his hat. “You’re keeping me in suspense here, woman. My ego ain’t what it used to be. But I’ll tell you what. After the rodeo, I’ll take you dancing.”

      “Oh, that’s a real incentive. You know how long I’ve avoided dancing?” He cocked an eyebrow, and she nodded. “Yes. That long.”

      “The wait is finally over, baby. Wolf Track is back.”

      Dear Reader,

      Throughout the time I’ve been working on my “Double D Wild Horse Sanctuary” series of books, I’ve been looking forward to creating Ethan Wolf Track’s story. I love a good bad boy, and that’s exactly who Ethan is. He’s been in touch with his brother, rodeo cowboy Trace Wolf Track, and he ran into his father, Logan, at the Double D. But his relationship with Logan has been strained in recent years. Sent to prison for a crime he didn’t commit, this hometown hero has become a man apart from family and friends.

      But at least one of his old friends hasn’t forgotten him. Bella Primeaux was a smart, shy, high-school underclassman when she last saw Ethan, and she’s the first to admit she had a secret crush on him. But carrying a torch was never her style. Now that Ethan’s a free man and Bella an independent professional woman—a local celebrity as a TV news reporter—what could they possibly have in common?

      South Dakota is one of my favorite settings. It’s where I met my husband. It’s a place where the sky is so big and powerful it takes your breath away. It’s a land so vast, so nearly natural, that freedom would seem to reign. But freedom can sometimes be an elusive dream, and without love the dream can feel hollow. A good bad boy is bound to keep his feelings to himself.

      Until the right woman comes along.

      Please visit me on Facebook and on Riding With The Top Down, my blog on Wordpress. Enjoy the ride!

      All my best wishes,

       Kathleen Eagle

      About the Author

      KATHLEEN EAGLE published her first book, a Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award winner, with Mills & Boon^® in 1984. Since then, she has published more than forty books, including historical and contemporary, series and single title, earning her nearly every award in the industry. Her books have consistently appeared on regional and national bestseller lists, including the USA TODAY list and the New York Times extended bestseller list.

      Kathleen lives in Minnesota with her husband, who is Lakota Sioux. They have three grown children and three lively grandchildren.

       The Prodigal Cowboy

      Kathleen Eagle

      

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      For All My Relatives

       Chapter One

      “Looks like he ain’t coming.”

      Bella Primeaux glanced up from the news report on her smartphone display. The cowboy claiming the next bar stool was half-shot and full-ugly. She didn’t know him, wasn’t interested in knowing him, and there was no point in sparing him more than a glance. She pressed her elbows against the bar and swiveled two inches to the right, turning a cold left shoulder.

      “What’s that you’re drinkin’?”

      Bella glanced right. Another one was moving in. She was book-ended by Crude and Rude. Experience told her that if they got no satisfaction, their type would go away.

      “What does that look like to you, Loop?” the one on the right asked the one on the left. “Seven and seven?”

      Loop? Bella swallowed the urge to laugh. She’d interviewed a rodeo cowboy named Rope who’d given a shout out to his brother Cash and his friend Spur. But Loop?

      “Looks like tea.” Loop was perceptive.

      “Is that some of that Long Island iced tea? You wanna try some, Loop?” Rude signaled the bartender. “Bring us three more of these.”

      “Lemme try hers first,” Loop said as he reached for Bella’s glass from the left.

      She slipped her phone into the woolen sack that hung over her shoulder on a braided cord. He could have her drink. She was leaving anyway.

      “Is it whiskey and tea?” Loop sniffed, slurped and slammed the glass on the bar. “It’s just tea.”

      “And it’s yours now, Loopy,” said a newcomer to the growing group.

      Bella turned to her left, and her glance traveled quickly over the glass in the one called Loopy’s grubby hand, past the full-ugly face to a faintly familiar one that loomed in the shadows above Loopy’s cowboy hat. Familiar, fine looking, and frankly unsettling. It had been years since she’d seen the man, but he wore the years as well as his own straw cowboy hat. Surprising, considering where he’d spent the last couple of those years. His hat was battered, and his jeans and T-shirt had seen better days, but he made them look camera ready. She’d lost what little touch she’d had with high school friends, and Ethan Wolf Track was no exception, but she’d never quite shaken her interest in what he was up to. Generally it was no good.

      But his smile was as disarming as ever.

      “Sorry I’m late, Bella.”

      Loopy peeked over his shoulder and then turned back to Bella with a whole new brand of interest in his glazed eyes. “Why didn’t you just say you were with Ethan Wolf Track? Hell, man, we were just—”

      “Long Island iced tea all around. Loopy’s buying.” Ethan’s hand appeared on Loopy’s shoulder. “Right, man?”

      “It’s just tea. There’s no whiskey,” Loop said.

      “Long Island iced tea isn’t made with whiskey or tea.” Ethan jiggled his hand rest. “You been living under a rock, Loopy?”

      “Same as you.”

      “Nah, look at the difference.” Ethan laid his hand on the bar beside Loopy’s. “You need to get yourself some sun, boy.”

      Bella glanced between the two faces. The “boy” couldn’t have been any younger than the man, but he didn’t take exception. Ethan was still the man. The memory of a younger but no less commanding Ethan letting the boys know who was boss flashed through her mind.

      “Iced tea for two,” the bartender announced, landing the glasses on the bar with a thunk. “As for the other two, you want another beer? It’s the same price as tea.”

      “No beer for these horses, Willie,” Ethan said as he claimed both glasses. “Tricky, ain’t it, Loopy? Pullin’ the wagon and riding it, too?”

      “You