Drawn to a Cowboy (Brother Duet #1)
Read Drawn to a Cowboy (Brother Duet #1) Online
Authors: Fifi Flowers
FIFI FLOWERS
Champagne Girl Studio
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
Copyright © 2016 Fifi Flowers
Kindle Edition
Cover Design by Jo Ann of
Just Write. Create
Formatting by
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Published by Champagne Girl Studios
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
WARNING: This book contains sexually explicit material and is intended for adult readers only.
Other Books by Fifi Flowers
– All Standalone Books –
A Window to Love, (Book 1, Windows Series)
Awakening to You Trilogy: Complete Book
Just A Number, (Book 1, Downtown Series)
Jade
“M
erde! Now what the fuck am I to do!?” I shouted louder than I should have while parked in a gas station just down the road from that miserable, good for nothing resort. I was so pissed off, I could barely see straight. My apologies to any families with small children nearby. Perhaps swearing… talking to myself in a combination of English, and French (I had learned during my years in Paris studying art while working as an assistant for Madam Marionette’s vintage clothing shop), kept them from understanding my entire crazed rant.
I was fuming, kicking my innocent automobile’s tires when I heard a man’s voice in the distance drawing near. Stopping mid-speech, I placed my hands firmly on my hips ready for whatever words he was about to deliver my way, perhaps reprimanding me for speaking unladylike. Instead, his words seemed to hold some sincere concern, “Pardon me miss, are you okay?”
Turning, I saw a cowboy. A fucking, honest to goodness cowboy approaching me wearing nicely fitted jeans, a t-shirt, boots, and a grey straw cowboy hat.
Hot damn!
My heart started racing as his sky blue eyes met my light green eyes. Truly, I should’ve been thanking my lucky stars, but I still hadn’t been able to calm myself. “Do I look like I’m okay?” I asked him in a smartass tone. Then I continued babbling to myself, “I have no job, no place to stay, tons of art supplies. I guess, I could build a fucking tent out of cardboard and paper, and sell my damn paintings on the side of the road.”
Shaking my head, I started to laugh at the thought of being stationed along the highway with signs reading, “Buy My Shit!” Not so funny I realized, as I was running my fingers along my scalp, pulling my hair, as the cowboy laughed along with me, or at me, and I stilled my movement. I must’ve looked like a total loon to him; tugging on my own bright red, waist length hair, jabbering on in French—a safer language, “Merde! Merde! Merde!” I couldn’t seem to get a hold of my emotions, my eyes filled with tears which began to flow down my cheeks.
“Can’t be that bad. You were just laughing.” He reached out and rubbed my arm, smiling at me. Part of me wanted to smack that smirk off his gorgeous face. The other part of me wanted to lick him from stem to stern—wrong uniform, wrong realm—hat to spur, even though he didn’t have any attached to his boots.
Stepping back out of his touch, I placed my hands on my hips, cocked my head toward my right shoulder and looked into his face partially shaded by his straw weaved hat. “Well it just so happens, I am now homeless and without a job. Everything I have is in my car. How’s that for not that bad? Fucking resort, fuckers!” I kicked my tire with one of my red boots again.
“Maybe there is a way I can help you out. What do you know about horses?”
“On a carousel? At a race track? In a corral? Or perhaps wild in a meadow?
Laughing, shaking his head, he replied, “On a ranch.”
“I could paint one.”
“Paint a horse? They’re already pretty colorful, not sure it’s good for their hair either. Could take some luster out of their shiny coats.”
“I’m an artist, smart-ass. I paint landscapes which could include a horse.”
“Okay,” a slight smile appeared on his face. “Good to know that you don’t want to spray paint my horses.”
UGH!
He was so cute and annoying at the same time. I just looked at him. “So this resort, the job or lack of employment?”
“I was supposed to paint for a resort just down the road from here. They were going to provide me with one of their guest rooms for up to six months,” I answered him. Then quieter and more to myself, I began to ramble, “Thank goodness I have that deposit. Money was non-refundable. Won’t last long… Shit!”
“Hey,” he said touching my arm again.
I gazed up at him. Looking at his gorgeousness should have been enough to get my mind moving in a more upbeat, positive mode, but I couldn’t seem to shake my disappointment, my anger. I needed to get control of my emotions. “Sorry to keep rambling on. I had counted on lining up another job to follow the now defunct one while I worked over the next few months. I do have a small commissioned job coming up near the end of the year that I was offered after I had accepted the resort gig, and pushed out. I imagine I could see if they could reschedule their project timeline, but…”
His hand was still moving along my arm in a comforting way, I liked it. “Why don’t you join me for lunch? There’s a great burger place close by. Do you like burgers? If not, they have other things on their…”
I cut him off, accepting before he changed his mind, and ran as fast as he could away from me, “Yes, I love a good burger.”
“Good. I guarantee Diablo Burgers has one of the best burgers around. Fresh, local open range raised beef, no hormones or antibiotics.”
“You sound like you own shares in the company?” I laughed with a raised brow.
“My brother turned me on to the place. He’s a restaurateur. Follow me. I have a proposition for you and your paintbrushes.”
Follow him? Lunch? What did I have to lose? Couldn’t hurt to sit across from a hunky cowboy, it just could be my lucky day. What did he have to offer me?
Thinking what the hell, I agreed, then stomped around to my car door, and climbed in.
Hopefully his place was better than the cancelled gig I had been willing to do. It really wasn’t an ideal job, if I was honest, but it was an adventure, and that’s what I wanted, needed. I didn’t spend the last two years perfecting my talent to go back to teaching tourists to surf while I dreamt of painting countrysides… and cowboys. I didn’t want to necessarily paint a cowboy per se, although a naked man with a cowboy hat on—I might be able to do that. That would definitely be better than the landscapes that I was going to paint.
When the hotel approached me a couple months back, I jumped and said “yes,” without really researching the place. It was a job away from home, I could paint anything or anyone, and the price was right. Then reality set in, as I opened the files and links to their website that they had provided to me. The location itself was great, looked great on the outside, beautiful property. Inside, the lobby and dining areas were appealing as well. Then I moved onto the guest rooms, the themes in each room had good bones, but they were in need of a little updating, to my way of thinking. My paintings would look good in any room, I believe that art can stand alone, it didn’t have to match anything. However, I must say that it was hard to look beyond the dated decor.
Feeling a little unsure, I emailed the person in charge of hiring me and began to question the overall redo. It turned out that I was the only updating, at that time, for each room. I was surprised, maybe shocked was a better word. The current artwork, I believe they were prints in cheap frames, really fit much better than what they were asking of me. But hey, I didn’t own the place. If they wanted me, it was a job, I was willing to leave my mark… put my art in their less than appealing guest accommodations.
Really, it didn’t matter what I thought. I knew that doing commissioned work wouldn’t always entail subjects I wanted to paint, what I liked, but what the client wanted, desired, and envisioned. Let’s face it, money talks and bullshit walks, and I wasn’t interested in walking away. Give me the money and I’d paint you rodeo clowns—I hated clowns. Unfortunately, they were no longer my clients and I had nothing to paint. Well, that might not be true.
What kind of client would dreamy cowboy be? Better question was back to where I was with the hotel chain initially; what would I be asked to paint? Other details, I wondered what the ranch looked like. I was trying to imagine what the furnishings might be. Were there cabins or tents (not that I thought they would need artwork), or hotel-style lodging? This was really a vague possibility. Could be that he was only going to want one painting. Then again, he might not like my skills and send me on my way. He could make me paint boring lifeless things that I’d hate, using drab colors. No. No, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t possibly, as he didn’t look like any of those elements. He excited me! I could paint whatever he told me to do… I mean paint whatever he told me to paint.
As long as he didn’t want flowers in vases like I had seen hung in the resort that turned me away, I’d be fine. If I owned a ranch, what would I want in my guest rooms? Hmmm… Paintings that encompassed the feel of the place: Serenity. Fresh air. Country living. Nature that surrounded the place. An extension of the environment brought indoors.
A naked cowboy… ha!
That would be in my private quarters, not for the general population looking to live the cowboy lifestyle on their vacation.
Think about art for the campers Jade!
Waking up, the lodgers would know they weren’t at home, staring into one of my paintings. They’d feel as if they had left all of their cares behind. Free, no worries, stress or strain. It would invigorate them to start their day, get outdoors, and grasped all that was offered to them. He said horses, horse-back riding? Did they offer dude ranch packages? Roping cattle, driving cattle…
riding a cowboy… ha!
Refocus, dude ranch activities, I came up with a vision of people going out to the sticks to play pretend. The movie,
City Slickers
, instantly popped into my head and I could imagine awkward city dwellers learning to be ranch hands. If that was how it was at his ranch, then maybe paintings that depicted cowboys, horses, cattle, and stuff like that was the way to go.
I guessed that I was going to have to wait and hear what he had in mind. If I decided to take him up on his offer, I’d see what the ranch looked like, then go from there. If I hated it once I got there, I could always stay the night, and head off the next day. Maybe continue off on the road to wherever, until my money dwindled, then if nothing panned out, I could always make my way back to the West coast.
