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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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  Cowboy Flirtation

  Dalton Boys Book 7

  Copyright Em Petrova 2018

  Ebook Edition

  Electronic book publication 2018

  All rights reserved. Any violation of this will be prosecuted by the law.

  Other titles in this series:

  COWBOY CRAZY Hank’s story

  COWBOY BARGAIN Cash’s story

  COWBOY CRUSHIN’ Witt’s story

  COWBOY SECRET Beck’s story

  COWBOY RUSH Kade’s story

  COWBOY MISTLETOE a Christmas novella

  COWBOY FLIRTATION Ford’s story

  COWBOY TEMPTATION Easton’s story

  COWBOY SURPRISE Justus’s story

  Family ties run deep in the heart of Texas. Is there room in Paradise Valley for three more Daltons?

  Ford Dalton’s luck seems to have run out. The job he loved on the rodeo circuit left him with a back injury, and he was replaced. That’s about the time his fiancée broke things off, leaving him wondering about the next step in his life.

  When a frantic call for help comes from his family to come fight a wildfire in Paradise Valley, he and his brothers jump in the truck and head out. After all, what’s family for? When the crisis fades, Ford is left feeling let down—until his uncle asks them to stay on and help to rebuild what was lost.

  Susannah knows the Daltons are having troubles on their ranch, but she needs horses and they have plenty. When she comes face-to-face with a handsome—and single—Dalton cousin, she finds it hard to remember her plans to start a horse therapy program for special needs clients. Too bad Ford seems to be the only Dalton with no clue how to smile.

  Ford can’t get his mind off the sultry blonde with a passion for horses rivaling even his own. But flirting’s as far as he’ll go. Okay, so maybe he’s up for a date under the stars in the bed of his truck…

  Cowboy Flirtation

  by

  Em Petrova

  Chapter One

  A mosquito hummed around Ford’s ear, and he waved a hand to shoo it away. The roof was hard beneath his back but the sky overhead… Whooeee, that was as beautiful as they came. Bright, twinkling stars set in deep velvet. How much time he spent out here on the porch roof staring up at that sky, he couldn’t guess. Since coming back home to live, it was nightly.

  The Texas winds stirred the hairs on his bare chest and arms, and he breathed deep. Country air, but not country enough for his tastes. Compared to his aunt and uncle’s spread in Paradise Valley, his family’s fifty acres felt claustrophobic.

  Or maybe it was because he was used to the open road, traveling with the rodeo.

  Or because by now he thought he’d have a spread of his own.

  The mosquito landed, and he slapped it, crushing it to his arm. He brushed it away and watched the sky. These stars were the same ones over the rodeo venues—Dodge City, Fort Worth, Cheyenne. And the same stars he’d kissed Gabby under.

  He could blame the downfall of his life on a lot of things—unpredictable animals, bosses that wouldn’t give a man a chance to get on his feet—and women who wouldn’t give that same chance.

  Or he could place all the blame on his own broad shoulders. After all, the Dalton motto was take it on and don’t complain. He’d never taken out his frustrations at the shitty events that had stacked against his happiness, but maybe it was time to sow some wild oats. His brothers would probably be up for it.

  His phone buzzed from deep in his jeans pocket, and he fished it out quickly, already pissed at whoever was disturbing the one spot of peace he had each day.

  “Yeah?” His voice sounded gruff even to his own ears, but he was expecting to hear his younger brother, Easton’s voice saying he’d had one too many beers and got into another fistfight down at the dirty bar five miles off.

  Instead, a woman’s voice, frantic-edged, filled his ear. He bolted into a sitting position and slipped on the roof, sliding two feet down the slope before he dug in his bare heels and stopped himself.

  “Ford, this is Maya, Cash’s wife.”

  “Maya?” He put the name and face together in a blink—the little spitfire Hispanic had taken his cousin Cash for a helluva ride before settling down. “What’s wrong?”

  “Fire’s broken out. A lightning strike We need all hands on deck. The whole town’s here fighting it and…” Her voice broke.

  Ford scrambled back up the roof and dived through the open window. His foot caught the curtain and the rod came crashing down. Fabric puddled around him as he leaped up and made a grab for shirt, socks and boots.

  “We’ll be there in an hour. How much is burning, Maya?”

  A sob sounded. “Everything. Everything is burning.”

  Paradise Valley was burning. The land he loved, where he felt more at home than in his own skin.

  Goosebumps rose on his arms and neck. Those stars he’d been looking at were the same ones over Paradise Valley.

  “Stay calm, honey. My brothers and I will be there in an hour. Less if I can.” He didn’t add if I can find Easton faster. In the event he couldn’t track down that brother, he’d leave him behind. He knew his youngest brother Justus wasn’t at the bar—he steered clear and for good reason.

  “Hurry, Ford. We’ll see you soon.” Maya rang off, and Ford shoved his phone deep into his pocket. He yanked on his boots and pulled his T-shirt over his head, looking around for his hat. It had fallen from the bedpost where he always left it, and he swiped it off the floor. Shoving it on his head as he strode out the bedroom door, he called for Justus.

  The youngest Dalton male poked his head out of his room. “It’s late. What the hell?”

  “What the hell is we’re needed in Paradise Valley.”

  He stepped into the hallway. “Paradise Valley?”

  “Yeah, get dressed. Where’s Easton?”

  “Probably down at the bar. What’s going on?”

  “Fire broke out. All hands on deck. Meet ya in the truck in two minutes. I’ll try to call Easton.” He stabbed his phone to dial his brother. It wasn’t that Easton was a drunk—he just liked a certain pretty bartender and spent way too much time down there getting her to pour him drinks in hopes that she’d also give him her number. But Ford knew something his brother didn’t—women like that only teased and smiled pretty to get the tips. She wasn’t really interested in Easton or any number of other men in their county who warmed those barstools.

  Thank God his brother answered on the third ring, because Ford was about to tear into him on voicemail.

  “Justus and I are coming to get you. Be outside.”

  “What the hell, Ford? Can’t a man have a beer?”

  “Hate to break up the party, but our aunt and uncle need us. Paradise Valley is burning, and we gotta go.”

  A beat of silence and then, “Oh shit. I’ll be outside. Hurry.”

  Ford ended the call without another word and knocked on his parents’ bedroom door. They’d be in a sound sleep but raising six kids—three boys and three girls—meant they were used to being interrupted in all things.

  “Come in,” his mother said faintly.

  He twisted the handle and pushed open the door. In the moonlight, he made out his parents’ big bed and both of them tucked in the rumpled covers. “Trouble at Paradise
Valley. I’m takin’ Easton and Justus.”

  His father sat up. “What’s going on?” He reached for his hat before his clothing, which spoke loudly of where his father’s heart lay. He’d been raised a cowboy and still was one through and through.

  “You stay here. There’s a fire and we don’t have much time. We’ll call if we need more help, Pa.”

  His mother launched from the bed like only a mother could when her child needed her. She ran to Ford and threw her arms around him. “Be careful, all of you. We’ll be prayin’.”

  He squeezed her lightly and then let her go. He gave his pa a nod of farewell and closed the door again.

  Justus was in the truck when he went outside, and Easton had kept his promise to be waiting in front of the bar.

  They were on their way.

  * * * * *

  “The horses are screaming!” The little girl plastered her hands to her pale cheeks and let out a howl of anguish. She was maybe five or six, which must make her Hank’s daughter.

  She let out another peal that ripped through the night. Ford’s heart tugged for her, but he couldn’t go to her, not when he was holding the line. The scream stopped and when he glanced back he saw one of the Dalton women lifting her and carrying her away in a bundle of white cotton nightgown.

  The horses weren’t happy, that was sure, but they were safe, at least, clustered in a spot of ground that wasn’t on fire or even blackened by the flames.

  A firetruck from town bumped across the valley at high speed, and Ford paused in smothering the fire the best he could with dirt and shovel. Around him, the men wore faces of anguish and determination, alternating depending on what they’d last felt. And his need to help them protect their land tripled.

  He ripped into the earth with his shovel, turning the sod to create a short wall of dirt that might stall the fire until more water came.

  They’d been working all night, and he was drenched in sweat and filth. He could smell himself. But he was here with his people and that was all that mattered. Thank God they’d called. If he’d found out later what had happened and he hadn’t been here to help, he’d never forgive himself.

  They’d lost a barn, though just as it began to smolder, two of his cousins had apparently run in to save the animals, so no casualties at least. Another entire outbuilding had gone up in flames, and a newer model tractor stood like a blackened sentry in the middle of the wreckage.

  And the pigs…well, this was sick, but Ford’s first thought was that they were bacon.

  He knuckled a stream of sweat out of his eye and kept shoveling, turning the earth as fast as he could.

  “Take this.” Witt shoved something into his hands, and he gasped when it squirmed.

  Ford looked down to see a kitten, looking a bit singed around the ears but with wide blinking eyes. It was alive and somehow had been found before the fire ate up the land it was standing on.

  He grunted and stuffed the kitten into his shirt, hoping like hell it didn’t protest with teeth and claws. It wiggled a bit but after a while curled up somewhere around his waist, where his shirt was tucked into his jeans, and fell asleep.

  Witt took off at a dead run to meet the firetruck, and in minutes they had a hose turned on the inferno.

  A pickup ripped across the field and slammed to a stop. Hank jumped out, head swinging right and left to survey the landscape.

  Ford ran up to him. “We got this. What about the house?”

  The big ranch house the five Dalton brothers had been raised in, the one where Ford and his brothers and sisters had come to stay when they visited, was thankfully untouched. But Hank’s home had been closest to the lightning strike that had started it all.

  When Ford met Hank’s gaze, his chest tightened with all the pain he saw there. Two hollows of black despair cut through Ford as his cousin stared at him. “They got it under control, but it took the back of the house.” His throat worked. “Thank God we got out in time, because it’s where the kids’ bedrooms are.” His voice roughened, and he ran his hand over his jaw.

  Ford reached out and grasped Hank by the shoulder. “They’re all right.”

  “How do I tell my kids that their dog’s dead?”

  The sleeping kitten was a warm, fuzzy weight against Ford’s stomach. He pulled the tail of his shirt from his waistband and the small rescued beast landed in his palm. Hank’s eyes bulged.

  “Maybe this will help soften the blow. I’m sorry, man. I wish it was more.”

  Ford’s eyes burned with tears that he wouldn’t let fall. He took the kitten and put it on the truck seat. He scanned the field again. “Looks like it’s under control here.”

  “Yes. Go where you’re needed. We’ve got this.” He, Easton and Witt along with many neighbors and volunteer firefighters were all devoted to ending this here and now.

  Hank nodded and gripped Ford’s shoulder in return. “I’ll see you later.” He got back into his truck and drove off back toward the big house where the women and children were hunkered down safely.

  Ford had to rub the sting out of his eyes before continuing his work. By the time the sun rose over the lip of the land, the fire as far as the eye could see was contained. Small spirals of smoke rose into the air.

  He and Easton started walking back toward the big house to see where else they were needed. A truck rolled up and Uncle Ted said, “Get in.”

  “We’ll get in the back. We’re too dirty for your seats.”

  “Like hell,” their uncle said gruffly. “Get in.”

  Ford gave a nod and opened the passenger door. He slid into the middle of the old 70s model Chevy. His exhausted mind wondered over how funny that all the Daltons drove Chevys when he’d been conceived in the bed of a Ford.

  Easton crowded in beside him. With three big men across the front of the cab, Easton could barely shut the door. He tilted onto one hip and managed to make it latch, and then Uncle Ted bumped out across the field toward the house.

  Outside, the yard was clustered with neighbors and firefighters receiving nourishment. Someone had set up a table outside with a coffee urn and more muffins than Ford had seen in one spot at once. Looking at the exhausted faces of the Dalton ladies, he imagined they’d stayed up all night baking, trying to keep their hands busy while doing all they could to help in this terrible ordeal.

  His aunt Maggie caught his eye and a smile spread over her face. When he crossed the yard to her, she enveloped him in a huge hug that roused memories of the good times spent here on the ranch. She smelled like blueberry and a hint of starched cotton.

  “Thank you for being here. You too, Easton.” She embraced him as well. “I just saw Justus around here somewhere. Thank God we had all of you. And thank God we are still all together!” Tears poured from the rims of her eyes, and she didn’t bother to wipe them away.

  “I’d offer you my handkerchief, but it’s filthy,” Ford mumbled.

  She waved him away with a flap of her hand. “These are happy tears. No need to dry them. Now get washed up around the side of the house—you know where. And then get yourselves some coffee and muffins.”

  They nodded and Maggie moved off toward Ted. When their gazes connected, the woman finally let down her guarded expression and her true anguish shone through. She walked into her husband’s arms.

  Ford and Easton rounded the house and found several other people washing up at an outdoor sink. As kids, they wouldn’t be allowed inside till they washed their hands—and sometimes their bare feet too. Oh yeah, the memories were as thick as the smoke in the air today.

  After cleaning up and armed with a foam cup of coffee and two muffins, Ford sank to one of the porch steps. His back groaned. The cracked vertebrae had long ago healed, but he was stiff after a hard day’s work.

  He winced as he settled. The pain always gave him a deep stomachache, and he’d need to round up some pain relievers soon. At this rate, an hour home in the driver’s seat wouldn’t do him any good either. He’d have to hand over
the wheel to one of his brothers and stretch out in the back, but they were used to it.

  As he stuffed muffins into his mouth and sipped hot coffee, his mood should have improved. But the looks of loss he saw on the Dalton family’s faces felt like his own. A feeling of mourning dropped over all of them.

  This wasn’t even his fight, and he’d battled plenty in the past year. First after that rodeo bull had cornered him and smashed him against the stall. Then when Gabby had come to see him in the rehab center weeks after to tell him she was finished being his fiancée.

  Yeah, he’d had enough to fight, and the devastation in Paradise Valley didn’t have to dump on his shoulders either.

  But it did.

  He watched Hank gather his wife and three children, Hank Jr, Danny and Lacey, and lead them into the house. Ford wondered if Hank had broken the bad news to them about the loss of their pet yet. He didn’t see the kitten on him, but it could be inside already, lapping at a bowl of milk after its ordeal.

  Ford turned his attention to his surroundings. People were starting to drift off, exhausted after a long night. His aunt and uncle were talking to a couple old timers, and Cash and Maya had their kids in their laps on the lawn, talking quietly. Witt had taken Shelby and their kids back to their place to assess the damage, if any. Beck and Kade weren’t in sight, and Ford would have to catch up with them before saying his farewell and heading for home.

  Somehow sitting here in the smoke-scented country air filled Ford with a deep feeling of loss that had nothing to do with last night’s fire.

  It had to do with what he didn’t have in his life anymore. Suddenly, all the anger he’d stuffed down the past year flooded him, bubbled up and overflowed.

  He fisted his hand on his knee, crushing the muffin wrapper, but it was softened from baking and provided no relief from the emotions inside him.

  Those metal bars that had broken his back had been less than the blow he’d taken from the woman he loved. Gabby had met him at a rodeo, been an animal lover like him, and they’d hit it off immediately.